


Death Becomes Him

by Mysalyss



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Basically a Dead Like Me AU, Character Death, College Student Jaskier, Eventual Smut, Flirting with death, Flying by the seat of my pants, Gay Sex, Kissing, M/M, Modern Era, Near Death Experiences, Oral Sex, Reaper Geralt, Some Inspiration from Dead Like Me, Who are we kidding a lot of inspiration from Dead Like Me, character injury, some blood, sort of a slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 77,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26123560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysalyss/pseuds/Mysalyss
Summary: Jaskier was supposed to have died long ago, but a certain someone keeps interfering.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 84
Kudos: 199





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Had the idea for this AU a while back and, thanks to my best friend and beta Sawyer, its become this monster of a thing it is today. Special thanks to my editor Hooves for catching everything I miss and being so supportive <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it!

The masses kept moving past Jaskier despite him pouring his heart and soul into the song, the string-strumming accompaniment of his guitar working in perfect harmony with his crooning vocals. 

“ _ And this time I’m not leaving without… youuuuuu…”  _ the last notes rang out and the applause was sparse. 

“Thank you, thank you. I’ve been great. Don’t forget to show a little appreciation, right into the case if you would be so kind. You’re all lovely, thank you so much, I will be here all week and…” Jaskier trailed off when he realized pretty much no one was paying attention any longer, and anyone who was going to tip him already had done so. 

Sighing softly, the street musician scooped up his earnings from the worn velvet inside the guitar case and weighed it in his hand. Nowhere near enough to afford anything big or worth anything tonight; looks like its cheap cheeseburgers and dollar soda yet again. A few more nights like that and he was sure to lose his lean form that he was sure helped with his earning coin. Well, he could take up working out but… Jaskier shuddered. Sweating and panting and making himself physically tired? That was only attractive in bed. Otherwise, no thank you… 

Either way, the lack of coin tonight was utterly unacceptable and truthfully discouraging. The last few nights have been rather sparse and Jaskier started to wonder if he’d started to overstay his welcome. He’d have to figure something else out then, if he wanted to survive through to the end of the semester. And fast.

Grumbling to himself, Jaskier pocketed the coin into his worn jeans and set his guitar reverently into the case, clasping the latches securely before lifting it and strapping it to his back. 

The park was quickly emptying out around him, people walking with more purpose than they had been before, when they’d just been strolling aimlessly enjoying the evening. Checking his watch, Jaskier twisted his lips. The gates to the park would be closed and locked in a few minutes; he really should be going, too. Flipping the hood to his bomber jacket up, Jaskier started making his way down the path and toward the gated entrance of the park. He nodded to the small time security guard as he exited. 

Jaskier looked down the street both ways before he crossed the road and left the park behind. It was just a few blocks to the subway where he’d catch his train to his neighborhood before walking the handful of blocks back home. 

Street lights were already buzzing to life along the way, illuminating the sidewalk on the way to the subway. Jaskier kept his head down, not really feeling like people watching like he normally did. No, he was too tired.

He swiped his ride card at the gate and moved through the turnstile, following the flow through the halls to where he’d wait for his train. He had half a mind to set up shop once more down here given how absolutely packed it was because really, he could easily make dozens of dollars just playing to those waiting on their trains, but his stomach rumbled and he pushed the thought away. He had an early class tomorrow, needed to get something to eat, and he already struggled to get to and stay asleep as it was. He couldn’t waste more time down here trying to pick up more pocket change.

Jaskier sighed again, making his way to the front of the crowd next to the tracks as the clock ticked down to when his usual train would be arriving. 

Maybe he should look at getting a real job, he thought bitterly. Ugh. What would he even do, though? He had no experience in anything that would make him the big bucks, so any job like accounting or insurance sales is out. He’s still in college, and would need a flexible schedule, so that takes out consistent scheduled jobs like office work. That only left things like fast food or retail, or manual labor. 

Jaskier internally groaned. Yes, because manual labor is something he would do  _ marvelous _ in. He totally had the body type and endurance for construction work or sanitation, he thought sarcastically. Then, what? Retail? Folding clothes or checking out groceries for ungrateful Karens yelling at him all day? Yawn. He didn’t think so. Maybe he could look into something that involved getting tips. He has a good enough idea, he thinks, on how to charm customers out of their money. He knew how to be entertaining and talkative and how to connect to people, he knew how to flirt shamelessly and inflate people’s egos in order to get them to part with their coins. He--

A violently rough shove hit him from behind. It threw him off balance and he toppled, guitar and all, forward off the platform and onto the tracks. He landed hard, the wind knocked completely out of him, and his vision spotted with bright stars. Muscles he didn’t know he had were straining to try to draw air in. 

Rolling over, gripping his ribcage, he gasped and coughed, regaining his wind.

“Oi! Perhaps-- Warn a guy---Or something!” He coughed before he yelled in the general direction of the crowd on the platform. No one replied. Actually, no one even seemed to notice he’d fallen until he’d yelled. 

Pushing himself to his hands and knees, then lifting himself into a kneeling position, Jaskier threw a dirty look at the crowd that now gazed at him with confused interest, hoping to catch the guilty party and make them feel worse than they may already feel, if they did feel bad. The kind of look that said if he figured out who it was, then no force on Earth could stop Jaskier from raining hell and more down upon them, that Jaskier could (even though he probably couldn’t) absolutely destroy and ruin their lives. 

Jaskier rolled his eyes. He looked around for his guitar, hoping against all hope that it was unscathed, and gasped softly to see that the case had fallen away from him and was now splayed across the tracks, its lid open and the guitar half tumbled out of the case just a few feet away. On first glance, it looked okay, but he’d have to inspect it further than a cursory glance to really get a good idea if it was damaged.

“If my guitar has even the slightest blemish, whoever shoved me, you are going to be fully… res... ponsible,” His words trailed off as they were drowned out by the loud horn of a train that turned the corner and was now barrelling down the tracks at him. Its bright headlights washed over him and Jaskier felt his heart constrict in his chest. His pupils narrowed, his breath froze in his throat, and he realized in half a second that he was absolutely about to die a horrifying and gruesome death on those tracks. 

The train’s horn blared again and Jaskier threw his arm over his face, ducking away as if that would mitigate the impact. 

The impact never came, though an impact of different sorts did. Jaskier was airborne for just a second before the train would have hit him and with a soft  _ whump _ , he struck the hard form of a body. Immediately, he was pushed away from the body, stumbling on his feet, but kept close enough to whoever grabbed him that he felt himself still being stabilized by a large hand gripping his forearm firmly. Dazed, he heard the gasps and screams of the crowd around him followed by applause. 

“You should be more careful,” A deep rumbling voice that sent chills through Jaskier’s spine made him open his eyes. The first thing he saw when he did so was a broad chest wearing a black suit vest with a black shirt beneath and a black tie. His eyes trailed up, seeing a long black trench coat hanging from wide shoulders. Up again, and Jaskier saw a strong square jaw with a five o’clock shadow darkening the pale skin beneath the stubble, a pair of pale but surprisingly plush lips (delicious and kissable, the thought came and went, passing through Jaskier’s mind faster than his heart beat), a long nose with a bump near the bridge that told Jaskier it had been broken in the past, and intense staring golden eyes that bore through Jaskier’s skull and into his very soul. The man’s stark white hair was pulled taut to the back of his head, showing off the buzzed underside of his undercut. 

Everything about this man told Jaskier to run away, get away from him quickly. There was danger here just being near this man. Merely looking at him ignited Jaskier’s survival instincts. Paired with that, there was a shift in the air. A barely unperceivable change, though what it was exactly Jaskier couldn’t pinpoint. Just a change, an uncomfortable one. It wasn’t right. None of this was. Like the soft electric sensation in the air before a storm hits, the shift in the air pressure around them. 

It was wrong, so very very wrong. 

And yet, Jaskier could not stop staring into those piercing golden eyes. 

His tongue felt like cotton in his mouth for a moment and for the first time in his life, he was rendered speechless. 

The man let go and turned to walk away. 

“Woah, wait! Hey!” Jaskier followed after him, forgetting his guitar and the train that was now stationed, its doors opened and accepting passengers who no longer cared about the man who nearly died in front of them. “You saved my life! Aren’t you going to let me thank you? Wait up.”  
The man didn’t reply, he just kept walking. 

“Wait just a minute! Wow, You’re really fast, faster than you look. Probably those long legs you have there. Hold on. I’m so not in the proper shape for this. Dude! Stop, please. At least tell me your name!”

Jaskier chased him up the stairs and out onto the sidewalk, hardly noticing it was now raining out. The man in the black suit popped his collar, glancing upward at the rain, and made his way to a sleek white car that Jaskier raced toward, beating the man by just a couple seconds. He threw himself in front of the driver’s door, blocking the large man’s way. 

“Move,” the man ordered, looking down at Jaskier with annoyance in his face. 

Jaskier folded his arms. 

“Nope. Not until you talk to me, you owe me as much,” 

“I just saved your life, I do not owe you anything. Move.”

Jesus, the things that voice did to Jaskier. Swallowing, he just shook his head. 

“Exactly. You just saved my life and I need to properly thank you. Julian Alfred Pankratz, at your service. Though you, my dear friend, can call me--” Jaskier smirked, offering a hand to shake.

"I don't care."

"Oh come now. Of course you care, friend! You just saved me. You've got to have some form of… caring about you. Now, go on, I've told you my name. You would be?" Jaskier pressed with a playful punch to the man's shoulder. He extended his hand to shake once more. 

“Not your friend,” The man’s head tilted slightly, not taking Jaskier’s hand.

“I’d say saving someone’s life makes the two parties pretty close. After all, you could have just let that train crush me and my guit--” Jaskier suddenly paled, looking past the man and at the subway entrance. He didn’t notice the way the man’s eyebrows furrowed. “My… My guitar. It was on the tracks with me, and… Awwh man!...” Whining, Jaskier gestured to the subway entrance, stepped toward it a few paces and turned around. “It’s probably been destroyed.”

“Hmm. Considering the circumstances, I think you’ll live.” 

The man unlocked the driver’s side door, opened it, and moved to sit down in the seat. Jaskier gave him such puppy dog eyes, stepping back towards the stranger. He grabbed the door, preventing the man from closing it. 

“At least tell me your name?” Jaskier asked softly, resting his chin on his fingers that curled around the top of the car door. Dare he even pout? Oh, he dares. The rain drizzling down, soaking into his jacket and plastering his hair to his forehead surely helped his case in looking sad and pathetic.

The man gazed up at Jaskier, his eyes searching as his lips pursed together thinly. He looked out the windshield and hummed softly, the sound a conflicted tone, and rested a hand on the steering wheel. Then, finally, he took a deep breath. 

“Geralt,” The man didn’t look up at Jaskier as he spoke.

“Geralt?” Jaskier tasted the name on his tongue, delighting in it. “Geralt. I rather like that. A strong sort of name for a strong sort of man. It fits you, Geralt. And, no last name then?”

“Mmh,” It was a distracted and dismissive hum. The muscle in Geralt’s jaw set and Jaskier searched for anything more to keep this extraordinarily interesting man there. 

“Geralt, can I talk you into a cup of coffee? I know this great shop down the way, they grind their own coffee beans fresh every day and--”

“No,” Geralt pulled on the door, nearly yanking it from Jaskier’s grip. 

“Wait-wait. Geralt. Let’s get together again, soon. We could do coffee another day and I’d love to get to know--”  
“No." 

"Fine then. Erm. How about a lift? You know, going back down to the subway after having nearly died has rather put me off the idea of trains. I could even give you gas money. That is, if you don't mind it in change form. We can talk all about your strong silent ways on the way to my place and--" 

"No. You won’t see me again, Jaskier. Good-bye,” Geralt pulled on the door again, this time dislodging it from Jaskier’s hands. 

The door shut and Jaskier stepped back, hearing the car silently purr to life before it pulled away from the curb. Jaskier tried to catch the license plate number, thinking to watch out for Geralt again, but there was no license plate. In fact, there were no identifying marks on the white car, the make and model itself even ambiguous. It just looked like a generic sleek sports car. 

Jaskier’s shoulders dropped and he put his hand on the back of his neck. A cold shiver shook through his body as the rain began to fall heavier on him.

“Geralt… Geralt No-Last-Name,” He said to himself softly before he exhaled and hurriedly crossed the road, going back down into the subway and waiting for a different train after checking the tracks for his guitar and case. There was no sign of it and the attendant nearby didn’t know where it might have gone. Neither did any other bystanders, at least the ones who could be bothered enough to answer Jaskiers inquiry. 

Resigned that his guitar was long gone by now, Jaskier found a new train and waited for it. This time he stayed away from the edge of the platform. As he boarded the train, he replayed the night's events in his mind and as he disembarked, heading up to the street he called home, he replayed his conversation with the tall stranger in the black suit. 

When he got home, he realized he neglected hitting the local fast food shop. Oh well. It wasn’t the first night he’d gone without. And given this near death experience, he didn’t think he felt so up to eating. That was okay. He’ll get something tomorrow before class. Pulling the coin out of his pocket, he dropped it into the metal dish by the door where he also deposited his keys and his phone. 

Fatigue washed over the street musician as he padded through the small studio apartment and peeled off his sopping wet clothes. 

Like he did every night, he looked around and lamented his situation. A single bed, old appliances, the guitar stand that now had no guitar to display. A handful of books propped up against the nightstand, an extraordinarily old box TV with a small cable antenna to pick up the free channels. It was only good for the news and weather, and even then, Jaskier rarely watched it. He rather liked the background noise and light as he worked on his assignments. Oh, maybe if he got a real job and started making money, he could afford some decent wifi and a netflix account!

Feeling excited at the prospect of getting an internet connection and better entertainment, Jaskier got a glass of water, pulled on dry sleeping clothes which consisted of a thin tank top and soft fluffy pajama pants, and climbed into bed. 

He set the alarm on the nightstand and groaned softly to himself. He had only five hours before it was going to go off. Oh well. It wouldn’t be the first night he wasn’t going to get his preferred ten hours of sleep, and it wasn’t going to be the last. But damn that other train. Then again, if it hadn’t been for Geralt, he wouldn’t be laying in bed right now to curse the fact that he had to wait to catch a second train home. 

Settling in for the night, Jaskier pulled the blankets up under his chin and rolled over. He’d already done it at least three times this evening, but he couldn’t help replaying that conversation once more. 

_ “Geralt. I rather like that. A strong sort of name for a strong sort of man. It fits you, Geralt. Geralt, can I talk you into a cup of coffee? I know this great shop down the way, they grind their own coffee beans fresh every day and--” _

_ “No,”  _

_“Wait-wait. Geralt. Let’s get together again, soon. We could do coffee another day and I’d love to get to know--”_ _  
_ _“No."_

_ "Fine then. Erm. How about a lift? You know, going back down to the subway after having nearly died has rather put me off the idea of trains. I could even give you gas money. That is, if you don't mind it in change form. We can talk all about your strong silent ways on the way to my place and--" _

_ "No. You won’t see me again, Jaskier. Good-bye,” _

Jaskier suddenly felt a chill down his spine, his eyes opening as he shot up and stared at the window. 

“How…?”

Jaskier pulled his knees into his chest and he swallowed hard, feeling utterly and completely unnerved. 

He never told Geralt his nickname was ‘Jaskier’.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Birthday post! Today happened to be my birthday and I was excited to post Chapter two so here it is! ENJOY

The following week seemed to crawl by and not a single day passed that Jaskier did not think of Geralt, his words, and how he’d saved Jaskier. How did he act so quickly to save him? In fact, Jaskier wondered, how  _ did _ he save him? As far as Jaskier could remember, he didn’t see Geralt anywhere near the tracks, nor anywhere near him. And how did he know Jaskier’s nickname? That last question haunted Jaskier every night, keeping him awake and staring at the ceiling for hours on end in the dark of his studio.

Every day he took the subway and every day he searched the crowd, hoping for a glimpse of Geralt, but every day he was disappointed. His hopes of meeting the dark suited stranger again were fading and by the end of the week, Jaskier had basically given up. He had better things to worry about he told himself as he sat down with the manager of the coffee shop for his interview. It was the least degrading job option, he decided, and it would guarantee him a semi steady income which was especially needed since he was now two months behind on rent, facing eviction, had absolutely no food in the cupboards at home, since his only source of income was now just little more than debris under a train. For bonus points, the job would also guarantee him cheap drinks and pastries with the employee discount, which was entirely welcome to Jaskier being such a caffeine addict that he was. 

Through the interview, he answered each question with his usual charm and confidence, hoping to impress the manager. The questions were pretty basic, too. The generic ‘tell me about yourself’, ‘how would your friends describe you’, ‘why should we hire you’, et cetera et cetera. Honestly, it was all too easy to Jaskier. He was a master of talking himself up. Hell, if it were this easy, he should have gotten a job a long time ago! 

Everything seemed to be smooth sailing, he thought as she was smiling and nodding, leaning in as he spoke, and by the end, she shook his hand and welcomed him on to the team. Relief flooded him as he was given his new employee information, a thick packet with policies and procedures, expectations and consequences for breaking the rules. To his dismay, though, the packet also included recipes he had to begin memorizing. 

“Oh, lovely. More things to study. Cuz I haven’t enough of that in my life as it is,” He murmured to himself as he left the shop, thumbing through the cards. The sky was bright and he shielded his eyes, watching the cars zip by. Eh, he supposed it would be worth it, he told himself as he paced down toward the stoplight to cross at the crosswalk. He more than needed the money. 

Jaskier looked down at the cards. 

“Americano… Cappuccino…  _ Frapp _ uccino… Latte… Flat whites… Macchiatos… lord have mercy,” He pressed the crosswalk button and, busy reading the cards, he stepped into the walk without waiting for the light to turn green. 

A car horn blared to his right and he looked up just in time to see a black mass coming right at him. Jaskier yelped as he was pulled out of the street and back onto the sidewalk. The speed at which he was yanked to the sidewalk threw him into a fit of dizziness and nausea. The world felt like it was spinning, there was that odd shift beneath his feet once again, and he took a second to regain his composure. 

“I thought I'd told you to be more careful,” the voice beside him angry, helping to draw Jaskier back to reality. 

Jaskier looked back at the street and realized with embarrassment what just happened. When he turned to Geralt, Jaskier exhaled as if he was punched in the gut. He was wearing the same thing he was when they met in the subway, the sleek black suit and trench.

For a moment, Jaskier stared up at him with awe. But then he gathered his wits and grinned excitedly. 

“Geralt! Just in the nick of time. Looks like I owe you twice as much now!” 

“Hmm.” 

“What are you doing here? I mean, besides being the hero to my damsel in distress,” Jaskier pocketed the cards and stood beside Geralt, grinning up at him. Geralt only quirked an eyebrow, glancing down at Jaskier with emotionless eyes. 

“Come on. We don’t see each other for a week and now you’re here saving my life again? I'd call that being a hero.” 

“Coincidence,” Geralt replied. A chime from the crosswalk light beside them told them their light had changed and they were allowed to cross. Geralt started ahead. Jaskier had stared after him for a second before he jogged after him. 

“Coincidence? You call that a coincidence?”

“Yes.”

“How is that a coincidence?” Jaskier jogged in front of Geralt to walk backwards in front of him. 

“I was in the area and I saw you across the street. You weren’t paying any attention to the car that obviously was coming right at you,” Geralt said, his voice almost testy as he pushed past Jaskier and headed toward a tall building. 

“Well, it is a good thing you were there. I’d just gotten hired at that coffee shop over there. Would have been a shame if I’d died before, you know, before I got to work a single shift. Had to get a real job since my guitar was destroyed. It was a gift from--”

“Do you ever stop talking?” Geralt interrupted Jaskier, putting his hand on the door of the building. 

“Only when my lips are otherwise occupied. Want to find out?” 

Geralt paused, sizing Jaskier up and down. As he did, Jaskier just smirked smugly at Geralt, internally panicking for a moment that he really said that out loud, and to Geralt, of all people. Finally, after what felt like centuries, Geralt let out a scoff through his nostrils and entered the building. Jaskier exhaled softly. Well, it wasn’t a no, it wasn’t a ‘fuck off, get away from me’, Jaskier thought, so, so far, so good. 

He grabbed the door handle and pulled the door open, stepping into the largest lobby he’d ever seen. Modern and sleek, shining and clean, Jaskier paused to gape in awe. 

There were tropical like plants in built-in planters, there was the soft sound of trickling water. He’d see that it came from what looked like a pond with a built in fountain that acted like a waterfall. Bright orange, white, and silver koi floated lazily through the dark waters, mingling with lilies and lily pads. Slick silver seats were pressed against the pond’s raised edge to give any visitors the ability to sit and watch the fish swim about. 

The tile floor was slate black, polished to perfection. The ceiling was high, probably stretching the entire length of the building. On the far wall, Jaskier could see windows, likely to offices inside the building he told himself. 

Jaskier blinked a few times before realizing that Geralt was quite ahead of him. He jogged to catch up.

“So what’s this place?”

“My job,” Geralt replied, stepping to the receptionists desk and placing a hand on it. 

“And your job is?” Jaskier asked, wide eyed and interested, but Geralt didn't answer. Instead, he turned and passed through a security checkpoint, and headed toward the elevators. Jaskier moved to follow but security stepped in front of him and politely, silently, turned him away. 

Scoffing softly, Jaskier stepped back to the desk where the receptionist was watching him with an expression that Jaskier could only describe as surprised annoyance.

“What is this place?” he asked her, watching Geralt disappear into an elevator down the way. 

“Protection Beyond,” she replied, still watching him closely. 

“Protec-- The life insurance company?” He let out a low whistle and looked around. “So what, is he like a salesman or something? Accountant? Some big wig hot shot life insurance underwriter, or the sort?”

“He’s the CEO, actually,” the receptionist raised her eyebrow and had an odd expression in her eyes. Something akin to hunger, like a predator eyeing their prey before pouncing. Normally, Jaskier would take that expression, flirt with her, get her number, and have at her later, but instead he just stared at the elevator. 

“The CEO?... Holy shit…” he exhales and steps back. Looking at the lobby and the massive wall of windows once more, Jaskier whispered a low breathy whistle. “Um. Got a pen and paper?” 

The receptionist rolled her eyes and handed a pad over along with a sleek pen with the name of the company carved into the side. For a moment, Jaskier turned it over in his hands. It was heavy and looked to be made with wood. 

“Spared no expenses, yeah?” He tried to joke but the receptionist didn’t laugh. Clearing his throat, he uncapped the pen and scrawled out his name and phone number, tore the page off the pad, and handed it over to her. “If you could pass this on to Geralt, have him give me a call?” 

“Yep,” her word staccato as she snatched the paper and set it aside. The annoyed look on her face, that hard stare, said it all as he tried to hand her back the pen again. Something about her was just… not completely right, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. Perhaps it was the bizarre color of contact lenses she chose for herself. Or maybe it was the way her lipstick was brilliant red and glistening, like fresh blood. He didn’t know. 

He nervously moved to set the pen down but she continued almost glaring at him as she said, “Keep it.”

“Erm. Yes, good. Always looking for new… writing… utensils. Thanks. Have a good afternoon, yeah?” He replied, twirling the pen between his fingers and pocketing it. Turning away, Jaskier speed walked through the lobby and exited the building, taking a deep breath and exhaling hard. 

He scratched the back of his neck and watched the cars passing through the intersection. Maybe it was just a coincidence, he thought as he noticed the sleek white car parked in the second level of a parking garage across the way, its front fender looking out at the street below. Geralt was probably just returning from lunch, saw him being an idiot, and ran to save him. That was it. Made sense, at least.

Jaskier looked back at the coffee shop and felt his heart stutter in his chest. The shop was just a block away from Geralt’s building. A hopeful smile crossed his face as he started down the road in the opposite direction, making his way toward his own neighborhood. 

  
  
  


Jaskier paced with the phone in his hand, fighting with himself on what to do. It had been a full day and a half since he left his phone number with Geralt, and received no phone call. Half of him wanted to just call the insurance company and request Geralt’s line. Worst case scenario, he’d be put through to voicemail. Best case scenario, he’d actually get to talk to Geralt. Well, if Geralt talks, that is. He could just hang up on Jaskier. 

Part of him debated on calling his mother. He so badly wanted to tell  _ someone _ about his experiences and the mysterious man tied to them. He wanted to gossip, to speculate. He wanted to muse about what kind of man Geralt was, to fantasize about wooing him and getting him into bed. 

No, he couldn’t call his mother. If she heard that he’d not only almost gotten himself killed twice but got his prized guitar destroyed in the process, she’d never let him hear the end of it. Or she might not even care. She might blow past his story and go rambling on about things he didn’t care at all for. Family updates, dinner parties, all of the politics of being upper class that Jaskier had run away from. She’d probably even start trying to lecture him about his lifestyle and try to guilt him into coming back home. Mother was out of the question. 

He didn’t have a close friend, so that was out. The only other person he was close enough to was his ex and… Jaskier shuddered. Imagine him calling his ex and gushing about another man that he was smitten with. Rolling his eyes, he flopped his hands down. Imagine even just calling his ex. There was no way he would give Lance that satisfaction. 

He had no one else so… Geralt, then? What was the worst that could happen? Geralt could take this as an action of a budding stalker, a voice in his head told him. Could yell at him and tell him off. Worst-worst case scenario, he could bring up a restraining order against Jaskier. A restraining order? Isn’t that a bit excessive, he argued back. Perhaps, he continued to internally war with himself, but was he going to risk that? 

Holding the phone out in front of him, Jaskier sighed and flopped onto the mattress. He let the phone fall away, his other arm draped over his face. God above, he was helpless. 

The phone suddenly started to ring and Jaskier just about jumped out of his skin. He scrambled over the covers to grab the phone, feeling suddenly excited to see an unknown number with the same area code as him. 

“Geralt!” He said as he answered the phone, “I hadn’t thought you’d call, here I’d been thinking you’d have--”

“Julian Pankratz?” A female voice interrupted him and his whole body deflated. 

“Erm. Yes?” 

“Hi, this is Triss, scheduling manager at ‘Coff-Whee’. I wanted to get you on the schedule for your orientation and first shifts, what’s some good days and times for you?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, mentally smacking himself left and right as he climbed off the bed and went to his calendar. Five minutes later, he had a week's worth of new shifts outlined (including orientation in two hours) and thanked the girl before hanging up and pounding his head on the wall.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he chided himself before walking to the bathroom where he’d begun combing out his brown mop of hair. “ _ Geralt, I hadn’t thought you’d call me, _ ” he mocked himself in the mirror before making a tsk sound in the back of his throat and looking his face over. Honestly, he could use a shave, and his sapphire blue eyes looked tired, but otherwise he felt he looked pretty decent. His hair fell into place just right and he didn’t have any sort of blemish on his face. His lips were a little chapped but he was okay. He looked pretty good. Handsome, rather. 

“Alright, let’s go get this done, yeah?” He told himself before winking and giving himself finger guns in the mirror. He hurried about the apartment, sniffing his clothes and picking out the ones that smelled the freshest. A faded graphic tee of his favorite band, his nicest pair of jeans (nicest being that they were rip-free), and his hightops. The new employee informational packet he’d gotten discussed the need for slip resistant shoes but those would have to wait until his first paycheck. Otherwise, he’d just have to be careful. 

Grabbing up his keys, phone, and the handful of quarters that made up the last of his cash, Jaskier locked up and headed out of the complex. 

It was another cloudy day, the heavy low hanging dark clouds threatening to open up and dump their contents onto Jaskier, making him walk faster than he might have otherwise. That would be just his luck, to get absolutely totally drenched before work. What an impression that would make, eh? He should have brought his jacket. 

Thankfully, he reached the subway (subconsciously staying quite the distance away from the platform) before the rain started to pour and hopped aboard his train. Before he knew it, he was entering the coffee shop and heading behind the counter to clock in for the first time. 

“Hey. You must be the new kid. Julian, right?” A red-haired girl about Jaskier’s age approached him, dusting her hands off on her apron and giving him a grin. 

“Er. Yeah, but I--” 

“Good. Well, I’m Triss, and I’m going to be your little mentor. Set you straight, make sure you know your stuff, and keep you from burning the shop down like the last newbie.”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide and she laughed. 

“Kidding. No one’s burned the shop down. Yet. There’s always time for firsts. Kidding again. Come on, this way,” she laughed and gestured for Jaskier to follow her. He’d half chuckled, relaxing a little. He thinks he may like her. 

Triss took him to the back of the house where there was a little computer set up at a cramped desk that was covered in a mess of paper piled up so high and in such disarray that it threatened to all fall over at the lightest touch. She patted the seat. 

“So, first things first, you gotta sit through our little orientation videos. Try to not drool on the papers when you inevitably fall asleep, yeah?” 

“They’re that bad, huh?” Jaskier pulled the fold out chair away from the desk and sat down. He was just thinking about how amazing it was that the chair’s cushion was so worn down when she continued on. 

“Oh, you haven’t the slightest clue, Julian. While you watch those, I’ll get going on your paperwork and name tag and--- While I’m at it, what’s your passion?”

“Passion?”

“Yeah, like. The thing you love doing, that doesn’t involve sex. Cuz, hey, I love it as much as the next person but the GM tends to not be too happy when you’ve got ‘Hey, I’m Triss, and I love to get it on like Donkey Kong’ on your name tag. That was a fun shift, let me tell ya,” She rolled her eyes and put a hand on her hip, shifting her weight to one leg. Jaskier laughed and shook his head. 

“I’m a musician,” 

“Oh yeah? Have I heard of you?”

“Perhaps. I play in Henderson Park most weeknights. Got a regular spot there I set up and play,” Jaskier

“Ahh, I see, I see. So you’re not any good then,” Triss leaned against the wall, kicking a leg out, but then laughed at the expression on Jaskier’s face. “Kidding. Just kidding. I bet you’re great.”

“I  _ am _ great, thank you very much. Or, at least I was. My guitar was destroyed the other day and I haven’t been able to get another,” he sighed. As he did, he put his elbow on the desk and plopped his chin into his hand. 

“Eh, get enough tips and I’m sure you’ll be able to afford a new one before you know it. So, Julian-who-plays-guitar. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to watch the videos through to the end. There’s four modules, just your basic ‘How to be a good employee and suck up to customers to make us look good and keep the money coming in’ type of fair. I’ll get them playing and once you’re done we can go to the front and start sampling drinks. Sound good?” She stepped away from the wall and grabbed a sharpie off the desk, pulled a drawer next to Jaskier’s knee open and pulled out a blank name tag, and moved to write on it. 

“Yeah, just -- I go by Jaskier. J-a-s-k-i-e-r,” 

Triss’s lip corners drew down for a second and she nodded. 

“Can do, Jaskier-who-plays-guitar,” she gave him a wink, wrote his name in bold print with ‘Real Life Guitar Hero’ below it. After blowing on the ink, Triss waved the badge back and forth before handing it to Jaskier, capping the sharpie, and leaning over him to wake the computer. 

A few clicks later, a volume knob turned, and an obnoxiously overly cheerful training video started. Triss disappeared and Jaskier sighed, pulling out the pen from the insurance company and started twirling it around as the narrator prattled on. Yada yada yada, smile, go above and beyond, make the customer happy, blah blah blah. Triss was right, it was damn near putting him to sleep. 

As the girl on the screen with the plasticy fake grin demonstrated proper safety techniques, Jaskier’s mind turned back to Geralt and how he could possibly get more time with the mysterious CEO. Maybe he’ll take a coffee drink over to the building. Would that be creepy? That would be creepy. Besides, he didn’t know if Geralt even drank coffee. He did look like a coffee type though. Black coffee. No sugar, no milk, nothing fancy. He bets Geralt likes stouts, probably, too. Something thick and hearty, with a rich flavor and--

The lights flickered and the electricity went out with a soft  _ whooom, _ leaving him in the dark as people toward the front of the house hollered in surprise. 

Jaskier shook his head and blinked, sitting back and looking around. Did he do that? No, couldn’t have been. 

A flashlight swept the ground and walls by him before landing on him, blinding him for a moment. 

“Oh, great, thanks! Just what I needed, blinding light right to the retinas,” he cried out, covering his face. He heard Triss laugh. Rubbing his eyes, he lowered his hands and saw she’d lifted the light to shine on the ceiling which cast the light around the area. 

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t been dozing off during the video, the light wouldn’t be so shocking to you.”

“For your information, I was not in fact dozing off. I was daydreaming. There’s a difference.”

“You finish the videos before the lights went out?” Triss walked toward him and he stood up, cracked his back, and sighed. 

“Yeah, and as enthralling as they were, did they really need to just prattle on and on the way they did? I mean, surely they’d realize how full of it these videos are,” Jaskier followed her as they went back to the front of the house, watching patrons file out of the front door. “Rather than waste time and money making those cheesy videos, you know?”

“Preaching to the choir, Jaskier.”

“So what now then? Can’t imagine we’ll be making drinks in total darkness, eh?”

“Right. Can’t open the coolers, gotta keep the colds cold, and the appliances won’t work without power so… Now we just wait until the lights come back on.”

“Right. Cool.”

Jaskier folded his forearms on the counter and sighed, looking across the street to the building Geralt was in. Triss was talking beside him but he didn’t hear her. Instead, his eyes were locked on the white sports car that slowly cruised by the shop. A chill went down his spine, his skin tingled, and he suddenly felt like the earth shifted beneath him. He couldn’t place it exactly, what the feeling was and how it was that he was so sure of it, but all he knew was something changed again. Just like at the station. Something changed, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that the change was wrong. Very wrong. 

The car rounded the corner, disappearing from his sight, and he exhaled slowly. 

“Uh hello, earth to Jaskier, knock knock, anyone home McFly?” Triss was waving her hand in front of his face. He blinked, shook his head, and looked at her with a smirk. 

“Triple shot iced double caramel macchiato with a shot of vanilla and extra whipped cream,” he replied with a cocky tone to his voice. Seeing Triss’ expression, he added, “And yes, I  _ was _ paying attention, thank you,” as he turned away again. The street was empty again and Jaskier fought to shake off that strange feeling. Triss talking to him helped, and he let himself get lost in her words. 

“That sounds--”

“Delightful? Scrumptious? Like the most delicious drink you could think of?” Jaskier turned to her, turning his back to the window and focusing on what she was saying. That feeling stayed nagging in the back of his head, but he ignored it. 

“I was going to say disgustingly sweet, but sure, we’ll go for that,” Triss laughed, shaking her head and moving to make sure the cooler doors were securely shut. 

“Damn right, we’ll go for that. In turn, I pose the question back to you. And I swear, if you give me some plain-jane answer, we are never talking again,” 

Triss laughed, and they bickered back and forth over what drinks were and weren’t acceptable. 

The rest of the shift was spent chatting back and forth with Triss until the lights came back on, at which point they began making different drinks and sharing them since the store was barren of customers. Sure, perhaps it was more caffeine than Jaskier needed, but he had a new friend and the drinks were delicious. Here and there, a customer would trickle in and express their relief and delight that they were open. Apparently, the rest of the block still was without power. 

When it was time to clock out, he was given his uniform polo and his new schedule after he signed all his paperwork. Triss told him bye and he was out the door, watching the sun fading into the distance.

Walking home, his head was absolutely pounding. Too much caffeine, he decided as he continued sipping his drink that Triss helped him make. It made his head swim with all his thoughts, like they were sprint race runners dashing by as fast as they could. Geralt. School. Guitar. That new song by the band on his tee-shirt. Geralt. This drink. Triss’ snark. Geralt. That receptionist and was she really looking at him like she was surprised he was there? Geralt. Geralt. Geralt. 

Scoffing to himself and taking another long draw of the drink, he rolled his eyes. Always back to Geralt. 

“What, are you just some lovesick teenage puppy drooling over your new infatuation?” he asked himself as he opened his apartment door and closed it, swirling the drink in one hand while the other deposited his stuff in the bowl by the door. 

“And what if I am. What’s wrong with that? I’ll tell you what’s wrong with that. You don’t even know the man. He could be married. That’s probably what that receptionist was all pissed about. Bet that’s his wife. Or girlfriend. Or something.”

Slurping hard on the straw, Jaskier looked at the computer and took a deep breath. Realistically, he should get to work on his assignments. His Contemporary Writing, Film and Media, and Physics I (why is he taking physics, does he really  _ like _ torturing himself that much?) assignments weren’t going to finish themselves. A good idea would be to put this caffeine high to work and knock them all out now. 

Or… He could go celebrate landing the job. 

Yeah. He was going to go celebrate landing the job. 

Jaskier set the now empty venti cup down on the kitchen counter and moved to the closet of the bedroom portion of his studio where he began sifting through the few clothes that he actually hung up with care. A pair of skinny jeans with frayed tears in strategic places, a black tank undershirt and an unbuttoned patterned shirt, paired with his nicest high tops. Good enough, he thought as he mussed his hair in the mirror. 

Grabbing his makeup bag, he lined his lids with black ink enough to make the blue of his eyes pop, dabbed some glitter lip gloss strategically to make his lips look more pouty, and put on all the rings and chains he possibly could without looking too tacky. 

“Delicious. You delicious little caramel. Eat your heart out, Lance,” he purred to himself in the mirror before leaving the bathroom.

He grabbed his keys, a fistful of money from the stash of emergency cash under his mattress, his phone, and was on his way to the club just six blocks away. Not too far away to walk, but not close enough that he’d be tempted to go every night. It was his favorite place. 

There was a line out the door and Jaskier took his place, checking his phone. Really, was he that surprised there were still no calls from Geralt? Jaskier rolled his eyes and pocketed his phone again. He was starting to get on his own nerves with all this. He’s a grown ass adult, Jaskier reminded himself, he needed to act like it, not like an enamoured teenager. 

When he got in, he immediately ordered himself two shots of vodka and handed the cash over, stepping into the crowd and downing the first then the second before finding a group that looked fun and easing his way into it. The girls were pretty and the guys were handsome, and they took to him and his personality quite well. 

All in all, it was a great night, though he was sure he wasn’t going to remember any of it. He kissed and was kissed, he danced, he drank, he sang, he even hooked up in the bathroom with some handsome stranger who may or may not bear a vague resemblance to the insurance CEO in the back of Jaskier’s mind. It was a great night. 

With a brain absolutely swimming in vodka shots, tequila shots, and the odd mixed drink thrown in the midst, Jaskier stumbled his way out of the bar and down the street. He had half a mind to call an Uber but he didn’t think he had enough money to cover the trip, so instead Jaskier took a deep breath of the cold night air, smacked the sides of his face, and soldiered on. No big deal, he told himself, it was only a few blocks to his apartment complex. Intoxicated pedestrian? Who’s she? He could make it. Just this block… cross this street. There we go. No ones the wiser, he just needs to make it down this street. Cross this alleyway--

Jaskier was wrenched off the sidewalk and slammed into a wall hard enough that he had to gasp for air when a blade was pressed to his throat. 

“Your cash, your phone, your keys. Everything you have. And no funny business, or I slit your throat,” A rough voice, low and threatening, hissed into his ear. 

Jaskier’s hands went up. 

“Woah Woah. Le’s calm down, yeah? Think ‘bout this. Jus’ like… Deep breaths, yeah? And…”

“I said, cash, phone, keys. Now.”

“Lllllllook, mate, you can have ev’rythin’ I own, but dun be s’prised to find I own, like… Nothin’. I mean it, honestly. I jus’ spent like... all my cash back there, and,” he slurred quickly and hiccuped, “I’m broke as all fuck, drunk as all fuck too, so like, cut a kid a break here, I dun even have a car or--”

“Shut up! Just hand it over!” the mugger yelled, pressing the blade harder. Jaskier yelped and squirmed. 

“Alrigh’, alrigh’, why dun you jus’… give me a chance ta give you what you want, even though I alre’dy told you that I have abs’lutely nothin’ to my name. No money, no car, jus’ my shitty apartment and my new job and oh god dun kill me before I’ve had a chance to earn some actual money. Can’ you jus’ imag’ne, I jus’ barely started there and… Honestly it would be in both our bes’ int’rests to jus’ let me go and--”

The mugger let out a rageful growl and drew the blade back, aiming it at Jaskier’s chest. 

“C’mon, man, I’m jus’ a broke college student, I’m not at all worth it!!” Jaskier yelled, throwing his hands over his face as the mugger thrust the blade at him but nothing happened. Instead, he heard a thud and a grunt, another thud, and a yelp. 

He slowly opened his eyes, peering through his arms to see a large man throw a kick to a smaller one on the ground before the smaller one scrambled to their feet to run away. Jaskier swayed. The larger man caught him and Jaskier took a sharp breath, his eyes focusing long enough to catch the flash of golden eyes. 

“Ger’lt?”

“Are you hurt?” Geralt asked softly, looking Jaskier over. 

“Not anymore,” Jaskier replied. Though he was struggling to see straight at this point, he could clearly see Geralt’s barely stifled smile. The world shifted violently around them, spinning faster and faster, and Jaskier gurgled, “But uh… Think Im’a…”

Geralt turned Jaskier around at the right moment as Jaskier heaved, emptying his stomach on the brick of the alleyway messily. 

“Yeah. That,” Jaskier coughed hard, spit, and then turned back to Geralt. “Can I go home now? The world’s spinnin’ an’ as much as I like the idea of you jus’ absolutely takin’ and ravishin’ me in a dark alley, probably it’s best I get some rest an’ then you can have at me all you want.”

Geralt chuckled softly and hefted Jaskier up into his arms, carrying him through the darkness. His head lulled against Geralt’s shoulder and he gulped hard, fighting back a new wave of nausea. 

“How’dju know my nickname, Ger’lt?” Jaskier slurred into the thick fabric of Geralt’s jacket. “I din’t tell you.”

“You really don’t shut up, do you?” Geralt replied. 

“Issa gift.”

Jaskier found himself suddenly upright in a car seat, being strapped in and reclined enough that he wouldn’t fall forward. The minutely sober aspect of his mind told him he was in that white sports car. 

“Don’t throw up in here.”

“Can’t…” Jaskier hiccuped, “make any guar’ntees. But I’ll try. F’r you, gorgeous.”

The car pulled away and Jaskier felt a rush of wooziness. His whole head was swirling and he gulped again, trying to force down the sick working its way into his esophagus. Just at the moment it all became too much, the car was stopped and the door was opened. Jaskier leaned off the seat, his hand hitting the curb, and he threw up in the gutter noisily. 

“Oh, fuck it’all…” he whined, drawing a clumsy hand across his face. Heavy breaths came and he lifted his head, his eyes closed, with a doofy grin on his face. “There, Ger’lt. Din’t throw up in yer pr-” he burped and gulped, “preshush car.”

“Good.”

Geralt gently scooped the musician into his arms and before Jaskier knew it, they were in his dark studio apartment. He was on his bed, unsure how Geralt found his way through the mess to it. There was a rustling of plastic before Geralt set a trash bin with a grocery sack in it beside the bed. Then, a couple clinking sounds, water running, and a glass of crisp water was set on the nightstand. 

“Wait… wait. Gerl’t. B’fore you go. How… How’d you know my nickname?” Jaskier reached his hand and grabbed Geralt’s wrist. 

“I didn’t. And I wasn’t here. This was a drunk hallucination. You got home safe by yourself. Now rest,” Geralt said, gently working Jaskier’s fingers free of his wrist. 

“Not fair, Ger’lt. Tell me. Please. How’dju know my nickname? In fact… How’dju save me? There’s no way...”

Geralt laughed softly in the dark, the sound making Jaskier give Geralt another doofy grin. 

“Because, Jaskier. I’m a Reaper. I know everything about you.”

“Ohhhh… I knew it… of course. Of course. Right. A Reaper. Sure, I’m jus’ gon keep flirtin’ with Death, an’ he’s jus’ gon’ keep savin’ me. Ger’lt, ‘M gon’ sleep now. But ‘M gon’ find’ju again. Got more quest’uns,” Jaskier’s words were fading, slurring into nothing more than a humming murmur. 

“I wasn’t here, Jaskier. This was just a dream,” Geralt’s voice was distant now, and Jaskier wasn’t even sure he actually heard it. 

“Jus’... a dream…” Jaskier fell unconscious. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~I don't much know Triss well at all but just based on my researching of her and suggestions from my beta, this is how I felt she might be. I hope Im doing her justice. Thanks for all you who liked Chapter 1, I hope you like chapter 2 just as much. Ive got a lot of plans for this fic and I hope you're ready, buckle up, we're in for the long haul!~~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whomp this was supposed to go up Wednesday but here we are m'doods, better late than never, right? Hope you enjoy!

In the morning, Jaskier moaned softly and rolled over, not yet opening his eyes. His entire mouth was so very dry. His cheeks were caked to his teeth, his tongue glued to the top of his mouth, his lips crusty and sealed shut. It took almost all his energy to open his mouth and smack his lips, and the remaining energy to convince his eyelids to open. His eyes struggled to focus on anything. 

“Fuck…” His hand hit the glass of water as he reached for his phone on the nightstand, knocking the water to the floor with a clatter. Jaskier rubbed his eyes and grumbled, forcing his body to sit up right. The world swam around him and he gagged, grabbing the trash can just in time to throw up whatever was left in his stomach before dry heaving for a few moments. 

“Okay… Okay… We’re good,” he set the trash can aside and sighed, wiping his lips. Somehow he managed to get himself up, pick up the cup that had spilled, and get more from the kitchen. He chugged it down, leaning over the sink as he poured himself some more. 

Looking around the studio, he squinted his eyes and frowned when his gaze landed on the keys and phone that were set neatly on his desk. Odd. He wouldn’t have been so careful with his stuff if he was that black-out drunk. He’d have strewn everything about. 

How… did he get home? A flash of golden eyes and a low voice pervaded his thoughts but he pushed it away. No, that definitely didn’t happen. Definitely what he wishes had happened, but there’s absolutely no way. He’s had Geralt on the mind almost constantly and he even hooked up with a Geralt look-alike at the club (that much he remembers), it only makes sense he’d drunkenly dream up the insurance CEO swooping in like a big hero like that. Realistically what really happened was he probably just walked his ass home. Goddamn this stupid teenage crush. 

Shaking his head, he grabbed his water and went to his desk where he powered up his computer and sighed. He was going to have to do something about these thoughts about Geralt. But for now...

Jaskier spent the rest of the day absolutely slugging through his assignments. It wasn’t his best work but he was hung over and they were due in a day and it would have to do. Besides, it was enough work to keep his mind off Geralt long enough for him to forget that dream. Long enough, at least, that he didn’t think of Geralt until dinner time when he started thinking about food, about going out for food, about a certain someone sitting across from him while he got food. 

“Ughhhh… Alright. Alright. Tomorrow, after my shift. We’re putting an end to this,” Jaskier told himself as he toddled into the kitchen and gathered himself a dinner of a handful of pickles, a couple slices of cheese, his last soda, and a bag of chips. 

“I am the pinnacle of healthy living, follow my Instagram for more clean eating tips,” Jaskier stuffed his mouth with chips and crunched them loudly, flopping onto his bed. Honestly, he should probably start hitting the gym at this point, especially since his college had a free workout facility available to him, but he just still couldn’t see himself doing that. Maybe if he had someone to make him go… like a trainer. Oh, but to hell with that idea, he wasn’t about to pay some overbuff gym rat to tell him how he’s working out wrong. 

Maybe Triss would be interested in going with him. He’ll ask her if she was at all interested after his shift tomorrow. Surprisingly, he actually was looking forward to going to work. The honeymoon stage of a new job, surely. Or he just liked working with Triss that much. He hoped that lasted. For now, it was bedtime. 

Jaskier worked the button of his jeans open (the same ones he was still wearing from last night), peeled them off his body, shoved his hands deep into his boxer briefs to scratch his junk, and grabbed his pj pants from off the floor. He discarded his shirt and pulled the pj pants up before flopping onto the bed again, grabbed another handful of chips, and stared at the ceiling while he chewed. 

Rolling over, shoving the bag of chips to the floor, Jaskier stretched and sighed as he grabbed his blanket and yanked it up over his head. He reached over and flicked the light switch to let the studio fall into total darkness. 

As Jaskier made himself comfortable and fell into unconsciousness, he couldn’t help but imagine Geralt from that bizarre dream he’d had last night. Carrying him, setting him in the sports car, rumbling his low voice against Jaskier’s ear. Jaskier imagined Geralt setting him into the bed and crawling in beside him, pulling him tight against his chest and breathing deeply against his hair. It was a pleasant way to fall asleep. 

  
  
  


The next shift was absolutely nothing like his first shift. The first shift? Easy. Effortless. But this shift? This shift was chaos. Pure unmitigated chaos. It was enough that Jaskier questioned his entire life choices. Because he was still so new and didn’t have as many recipes memorized as a seasoned employee would, he was given the task of announcing orders at the pick up counter. That wasn’t that big a deal; he used his performance voice over the speakers to call out names in an attempt to add some levity to the environment. It was more a matter of keeping the orders coming and not letting them get backed up that was the issue. 

“Come on down, Cindy, your double shot mocha latte with light syrup is ready, Cindy, come on down. Make way for Cindy, fine folks of Coff-Whee, can’t you see she is in desperate need of-- Yes, good, Cindy, thank you, and have a day just as lovely as you. Right then, next up is… Dmitri! Your grande iced chai and _piping_ hot fresh blueberry muffin awaits you, ready for you to start your day the winning way and-- Wonderful, there you are! Here, your drink, and your delicious pastry, go enjoy and come back again soon, oh _Thank you_ for the tip!”

Finally, the crowd slowed and Jaskier had a moment to sit back to relax. 

“So, newbie, how you feelin?” Triss came up, dusting her hands off on her apron which had a few stains, syrup smears, and powdered sugar on it. 

“Like I’d been run over seven times by the train that almost hit me the other day,” Jaskier deflated, moving to grab a cup and fill it with water. “All that chattering and charm, I’m afraid I’ve shot my voice for the day.”

“Well, it worked. Look at all this we’ve raked in. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a full tip jar in just three hours. You charmed your ass off today. Good work,” Triss picked the jar up and shook it in Jaskier’s face before turning toward the back of the house. “Why don’t you take yourself a 15, and when you come back, you can shadow me on drinks.”

“Bless, Triss. Bless.”

The break wasn’t nearly long enough but it helped. When he came back, he shadowed her on drinks and continued building his recipe catalogue in his mind.

“Alright. So, we dispense the espresso into this. Put it into the machine like so, put the cup under, and press this button,” She went through the procedure a bit slower than normal, slow enough that Jaskier could keep up. “Then, we get this out, fill it with the milk, and put the steam wand in, crank this knob, and we’re steaming the milk. Make sure you’re doing this,” she emphasized the exact placement of the steam wand, “otherwise you get this hideous noise and you don’t steam the milk right.”

“Hideous noise?”

“Yeah. Some people, when they get into a rush making drinks, leave the pitcher under the wand and move away to work on something else and, well. Prepare yourself.”

Triss pushed the pitcher up under the wand, propping it up on the platform of the machine, and as soon as she did, this violently loud screeching sound started from the wand and pitcher. The customer’s head whipped over and Jaskier cringed. 

“See?” Triss moved the pitcher and the sound stopped, the only noise remaining was the standard gurgling hiss of the steam wand in the milk. 

“That was awful!”

“Yeah, don’t ever do that. It sucks.”

Once the milk was done, Triss showed Jaskier how to pour the espresso into the cup, following with the two pumps of syrup. She then stirred it before carefully pouring in the milk at just the right angle. Then, she let him top it off with the whipped cream, and capped it off. 

“And that’s it for those. No big deal, right?” Triss set the cup on the pick up counter and the customer tipped them before leaving with his drink.

“No big deal. You’re really good at all this. How long have you been doing this?” Jaskier asked with a smile. 

“Longer than you’d like to think anyone would be here, let me tell you. But hey, it pays the bills.”

“Amen, sister,” Jaskier leaned against the counter as the third employee shuffled by. “I used to just earn all my cash playing my guitar, but sadly, I’ve lost my only means for earning my wages,” he lamented. Triss scoffed, but was grinning.

“I know, guitar hero, you’ve told me already,”

Despite his late night resolution the previous evening, Jaskier couldn’t muster up the courage to go to the insurance company to confront Geralt after his shift. Instead, all he managed to do is stand at the crosswalk, stare up at the top floor of the building, and internally bicker back and forth the pros and cons of doing so before chickening out and walking in the other direction. Oh well. He’d try again. 

He didn’t.

  
  
  


A whole week later and Jaskier was feeling a lot more confident at work. He was making close friends with Triss, bringing in quite a lot of tips and impressing the regulars, and he was given his first paycheck. 

“Be proud, you earned it,” Triss handed it over, smirking at him. 

“Oh, Bless, Triss, I have been waiting for this day with absolute bated breath for the last seven days and--”

“Just take it, drama queen,” Triss laughed, pushing him away. 

After taxes and everything, the check didn’t turn out to be a ton of money but paired with the tips he was given at the end of every shift, it was enough to keep him afloat. He was able to buy groceries and pay his bills with enough pocket change to spare. Things really felt like they were turning around and Jaskier felt pretty damn good. 

He was moving to find a seat in the lobby to sit down for his break after another busy morning of work, distracted by the lid that wouldn’t quite fit onto his own drink cup. Damn it. Triss must have given him the wrong size just to screw with him. 

He was turning to call her out and didn’t see the puddle of spilled hot chocolate, now cold, on the tile around the corner of a table and as his heel hit it, it shot out from underneath him and Jaskier was flying backwards. He had just enough time to think to himself how he should have spent his spare money on slip resistant shoes as he fell.

Instead of hitting the table or the floor, Jaskier was caught.

“You just don’t learn, do you?” Geralt was holding Jaskier a foot away from the hard corner of a table, looking down at him with an expression that could only be described as intense annoyance. Exhaling hard, putting his hand on his chest over his heart, Jaskier grinned. 

“That’s three times now, you’ve saved my life,” 

“I didn’t save your life. You might have gotten away with a bump on the head. You’d have been fine,” Geralt straightened Jaskier up forcefully and turned away from Jaskier. 

“Oh, come on, Geralt. Three times is more than enough to warrant a conversation more than that. How about I buy your drink today? It’s really the least I can do considering--”

“No.”

Geralt made his way to the counter where his secretary was standing there, ordering already. Jaskier’s heart sank into his stomach. Of course. He’s here with her. She must be his girlfriend then. No wonder Geralt didn’t want to humor Jaskier with a drink or anything. Jaskier watched as Geralt placed his hand on the small of the woman’s back. The woman looked up at Geralt before turning to look directly at Jaskier with hard eyes, half glaring. The look itself made Jaskier feel unsteady on his feet as if the ground was shaking beneath him. 

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but then Geralt made his way to the pick up counter, scooped up a cup as soon as it was set down, and made his way to Jaskier. Geralt gestured with his cup to the table that Jaskier almost fell against. The way he pulled the chair out and sat down was so smooth and graceful, surprisingly so for a man as big as Geralt was. Jaskier could only stare with surprised eyes, his lips parted. 

“Are you going to sit or not?” Geralt commented after he took a long draw from the cup. Jaskier immediately sank into the chair in front of Geralt. Folding his hands and twiddling his thumbs back and forth, Jaskier stared him down. He was examining him, watching every little movement of Geralt’s facial muscles. Watching the way Geralt kept his gaze down at the table, the way the stubble on his jawline moved as he flexed his jaw, the way his Adam's apple bobbed while he swallowed his coffee. The way Geralt’s eyes suddenly snapped over and were staring back at Jaskier. 

“What, erm. What are you drinking?” Jaskier panicked and asked, pointing with both index fingers of his still folded hands at the cup. 

“Coffee. Black,” Geralt answered with a half smirk. The answer was enough to bring Jaskier back to Earth. 

“Black coffee?? Not even a sugar or creamer? Not even Sweet N Low?” Jaskier exclaimed, looking utterly offended. Offended externally, that is, utterly unsurprised internally. Hadn’t he predicted that a while back? Geralt only shook his head in reply. “Geralt, I am shocked! Luckily, you now have a friend here in the shop who can introduce you to the world of better flavorful coffee and--”

“I don’t want any. I’ll stick with this.”

Jaskier gaped at him. 

“But how do you even deal with that bitter undertaste of coffee? Doesn’t it just send shivers down your spine?”

“There are worse things that could send shivers down my spine,” Geralt said in a low tone, almost threatening. That alone sent a shiver down Jaskier’s spine and he chuckled nervously. 

“So, uh, coffee break then huh? Where’s your girlfriend gone off to? Figured she would have--” Jaskier was looking around the shop when Geralt interrupted him. 

“Yennefer is not my girlfriend. She’s just my receptionist.”

“Oh, well given the looks she’s given me the last two times I’ve seen her, you’d think she was. The eyes on that woman… She stares at me like I shouldn’t even be _alive_ , let alone speaking to you. Possessive, even,” Jaskier shifted his weight in the chair, becoming more comfortable. 

“Hmm.”

A slow smile pulled at Jaskier’s lips. 

“You truly are a man of many words, Geralt,”

“And you truly never do shut up, Jaskier,”

“Ah! That! How did you know my nickname? I’ve never told you,” Jaskier gasped and jabbed an accusatory finger at Geralt. Suddenly, he was mowed over by a feeling of deja vu. Hadn’t he asked dream Geralt the same thing…? The blood drained from his face and he was about to speak further when Geralt raised his brows and, wearing an easy smirk, he gestured to Jaskier’s name tag. 

“O-oh. Right. Name tag. Makes sense. Haha,” Jaskier blushed, looking down at Triss’ handwriting. “For a minute there, I was worried you _were_ some sort of supernatural being.”

Geralt raised his brow inquisitively and Jaskier started word vomiting. 

“Not that I actually thought you were some sort of supernatural being. It’s only that I had this thought, well more a memory of a dream rather than a thought. See, I got stupid drunk the other night and I had this vivid hallucination that you swooped in like some grand hero while I was being mugged (I wasn’t being mugged, again, its part of the dream really) and you saved me from the guy and you told me you were a Reaper. Silly hallucination, really, and urm, you know, thinking on that it might not have been the best thing to tell you I dream of you on our first… well, this isn’t a date, per se, though honestly I wouldn’t quite mind, so long as you were to agree, and--”

“Jaskier! Break’s over. Come educate yourself,” Triss called over the counter. Geralt had taken to watching the coffee in his cup as he swirled it slowly in one hand. 

“Erm… back to work. Geralt, this was really nice. Can we… Again…?” 

“Hmm.”

Jaskier bit his bottom lip as he slowly stood up. Resigning himself to another rejection, he tapped the tabletop and started to move around the table. Way to go, Jaskier, he chided himself, you blew it on your first go. Must be a new record. 

“Well, um. Have a good rest of your day, yeah?” He said softly, hovering his hand to pat Geralt on the shoulder. Instead, he hesitated and pressed his hand to his apron. 

Just as he was about to pass Geralt, Geralt’s hand shot out and grabbed Jaskier’s wrist firmly.

“Next Friday. Five-thirty. Outside the offices. Do not be late,” Geralt told Jaskier, not looking at him. Then he let go, stood up, flicked the lapels of his jacket, and headed toward the door. With one last glance, a soft and almost vulnerable expression in his eyes, Geralt left the coffee shop and crossed the street without even looking. 

“Oi! Loverboy! You gonna just stand there ogling after your boyfriend or are you going to come help me clean up?” Triss called, breaking Jaskier from his hypnotized stare. 

“He’s not my boyfriend, he’s just…” Jaskier moved back behind the counter and took the sopping wet rag from the cleaning bucket, slapped it onto the counter, and pushed it around aimlessly. 

“He’s just…? Spill the beans,” Triss nudged him. 

“He’s just this guy that I keep running into and--”

“Is he the dude you keep daydreaming about?” Triss interrupted, making Jaskier’s eyes snap up. 

“What? No… Pfff. No, he’s just… Alright, yeah he is.”

Triss gasped and patted her hands together before making a show of paying close attention. 

“Tell me everything.”

Twisting his lips, Jaskier looked out to the shop and deflated in relief that a customer was walking in. 

“Sorry, gotta help this nice gentleman. What can we get for you today sir?” He turned to the man who walked up. Triss rolled her eyes and grabbed Jaskier by the shoulders and pulled him back, gesturing to the other employee behind the counter. 

“Oh, no no. Claire’s got it. You’re not getting out of this that easily. Now, fess up. Tell me everything about Dream Muffin,” she said as she folded her arms, giving him an expectant look. 

“I hardly think that’s any of your business, and besides--”

“Oh, come on, Jasky. I have, like, no social life, let me live vicariously through you,” Triss grabbed at Jaskier’s hand and whined at him, giving him puppy eyes. He rolled his eyes and sighed. 

“Alright, fine, but only because you just look so utterly pathetic begging for the juicy details,”

Triss straightened up, did a fist pump, and whispered to herself, “Yes! My plans worked!” 

Jaskier laughed. Then, he told her basically everything up to the conversation they just had. 

“-- And he said to meet him next Friday, at five thirty, at the offices, and that was it,” Jaskier finished, sighing with a shrug. Triss gasped and grabbed Jaskier’s wrist. 

“He’s so going to take you on a _date_!” she exclaimed, looking like she was going to bounce out of her skin. 

“Tsk, no, he’s not. You don’t think?...”

“Uh, yeah. What else do you think he’s going to do, try to sell you life insurance?”

“Well, given how I’ve nearly died I don’t even know how many times in the last month, it wouldn’t be a stretch,” Jaskier shrugged, but Triss gave an unimpressed look that made Jaskier blush. “You think I should pack a change of clothes then?”

“Duh! Unless you really want to go on a date with Mr. Dreamy in your Coff-Whee uniform, then, yeah! What is your best outfit?” 

Jaskier took a moment to think, rapping his fingertips on the countertop.

“Probably has to be my flower print button up with my grey slacks and my vans, though do you think that would be good enough for the CEO of Protection Beyond?”

Triss threw up her eyebrow at him. 

“Dude just asked you on a date knowing what a disaster boy you are, do you really think he’s going to put his nose up at your clothes?”

“But didn’t you just say--”

“Yeah, I did. What I meant, though, is for your own dignity, don’t go on a date in your work uniform, duh. Keep up, Jasky.”

“Don’t call me Jasky,”

“Whatever,” she winked and turned, making short work of cleaning out the pitchers and mixing spoons. Both chatted idly about anything and everything while the third employee in the shop puttered around the lobby sweeping the floor and cleaning off tables. The odd customer here and there would pop in through the rest of the morning, then came a small rush at lunch, and then the rest of the afternoon passed by. Before he knew it, it was time to clock out. 

“Have a good class, Jaskier! See you tomorrow,” Triss said, waggling her fingers at him with a knowing expression on her face as Jaskier waved back and headed out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *date date date date DATE DATE DATE* i am HYPE yall. 
> 
> Also!!
> 
> You readers are all amazing and delightful and i love each and every one of you!~!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> their date is here~

The day before Jaskier’s meeting with Geralt, they were utterly swamped at work. It almost felt like a coffee-apocalypse with how frantic the customers were coming and ordering. 

“Holy fuck, Triss,” Jaskier exhaled when the last customer was served and on their way. The other two employees in the shop both seemed to collapse in exhaustion against the countertop with him. “You’d think they just announced that caffeine was outlawed.”

“Welcome to food-service baby. Hot and cold, off and on, stupidly insanely busy or stupidly insanely dead. Never a happy middle,” Triss replied, shaking her head. She looked at the clock and drew in air between two pursed lips making an odd high clicking noise. “Jaskier, you’re over your shift by almost an hour!” 

Jaskier’s head snapped up. 

“What? Oh, hell on Earth, I’ll be late for class!” 

He scrambled to untie his apron, clock out, and rush out the door of the shop. The streets were busy with end-of-the-work-day traffic, both vehicular and pedestrian, so he had to focus hard on his route to the subway. By the time he reached the tracks, he realized he was too late to go home to change and get his school things. Oh well. He’d just take his name tag off and untuck his polo, no big deal. 

He allowed himself to think more on his upcoming date with Geralt once he was seated at his desk in the back of the classroom. All the questions he had, all the things he could say. The topics to bring up, the conversations, all that. He debated whether he should bring up the near death experiences again, whether he should ask more in depth about the secretary, ‘Jennifer’? Maybe he should avoid telling Geralt about his current home life status. Or maybe he should. The CEO deserved to know what he was getting into with a barely-hanging-on college student who rarely spoke with his own family. He didn’t know. The last time he was on a real date, he was just a teenager and was escorted by the girl’s parents. Everything else had been one night stands and casual hang outs. Not anything like a real date. But then again, once more,  _ was _ this indeed a date? What else could it be? Jaskier had no idea. 

By the time the class ended, he realized he didn't absorb any information because he was so enthralled in his own wonderings and musings. Shame, that. At least he came back down to Earth long enough to catch what the assignment was. He had a second class to get to but he decided he probably would be better off just going home. After all, the second class was more interactive and not only did he not have any of his school materials, no pens or paper or textbook, his mind wasn’t in the right place for that kind of thing right now. 

Jaskier slowly made his way home, frowning at the new detour that popped up on his usual route. Sidewalk closed? That didn’t make sense. Construction work never started so late in the evening. Maybe they were just preparing for tomorrow, then. That meant he’d have to take the long way around, though. 

Grumbling to himself, Jaskier turned the corner and, for the briefest second, he could have sworn he saw the flash of glowing golden eyes. It was enough to make him freeze in place, staring wide eyed in the direction he thought he saw Geralt’s eyes watching him. A clattering came from the darkness in that direction and a small cat came shooting out of the dark past Jaskier. It startled him; he let out a shriek, jumped a couple feet back, and exhaled deeply. 

“Fuck… my life,” he said deliberately, taking a few sharp breaths and forcing himself to calm down as he watched the tail of the cat disappear into a shrubbery down the way. “Almost gave me a heart attack! I could just see it now. ‘Local musician and college student frightened to death by a street cat, details on page seven’. Mum and dad would be so proud,” he continued on, regaining his composure. 

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Jaskier shook his head and went on through the darker alleyway to cut across the block and walk around the closed section. He wondered how far the sidewalk was closed off, so he erred on the side of caution and just took the whole street down before cutting back across again. He looked down the street he avoided and frowned. So far as he could see, there were no ‘sidewalk closed’ signs on this side. Odd… Part of him wanted to investigate but… Nah. It wasn’t that important. 

Jaskier headed into the subway, caught his train home, and went to bed, eager for the next day to be over. He had a date, after all. 

  
  
  


“I felt it across town, too,” Triss was saying to another coworker when Jaskier came in for his shift, a bag on his shoulder that carried his ‘date’ clothes and a curious expression on his face. 

“Yeah. News said seven people were hurt, and three died. I guess they were walking on the sidewalk when it blew,” the coworker said, shaking his head. 

“What’s up?” Jaskier plopped his bag down under the counter.

“Guess there was a gas line that exploded last night around 10:30 on Fairmont street,” Triss caught him up, “It just blew out of nowhere and I guess some people were hurt and killed in it. Damn shame.”

Jaskier paled. 

“You okay there, bud?” the other coworker asked, looking around Triss at Jaskier.

“I… Uh…”

“Jaskier?” Triss reached for him. 

“My uh… I skipped my second class of the night and… Normally I walk down Fairmont on the way home around that time. I… I was almost there,” swallowing, Jaskier just stared at the two. He couldn’t quite find any more words than that. 

“But you’re okay. That’s what’s important, right? You weren’t there, you’re okay,” Triss offered a gentle hand that Jaskier took and squeezed. The other employee almost seemed to understand that Jaskier needed a moment so he moved to the back of the house. Jaskier was silent for a moment before he swallowed hard and looked at Triss. 

“Isn’t it a little… odd… how many close calls I keep having?” he asked in a soft voice, uncharacteristically speaking slowly. It was in that moment he was hit with a sudden wave of impending doom, reminded of his own mortality. A thought went through his mind. What if he was supposed to die on those tracks?... 

“Maybe you’re just having a run of bad luck. Or maybe you’re just seeing them more because Geralt is on your mind, and he saved you twice. You’ve been thinking about him a lot, haven’t you?” 

“Yeah, but--”

“You’re probably just piecing things together that aren’t related but just happen to feel the same. You okay though? Gonna make it through this shift alright?”

“I think so.”

“Good. Cuz between you and me, I don’t think I could take a whole shift with Terrance without you as a buffer. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a good worker, but if I have to listen to one more conspiracy theory rant, I’m going to put a bullet right-- Hey Terrance! I don’t think the napkin dispensers have been filled in a while, you want to go check on that?” Triss was speaking in a low voice to Jaskier but got loud and straightened up when Terrance came back again. Jaskier stifled a chuckle as Triss rolled her eyes at Terrance’s back, turning to Jaskier again. 

“So… tonight’s the big night! How you feeling?” She plopped her elbow on the counter and her jaw in her hand. Jaskier rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

“It’s not a date, Triss,” he said softly, still subdued by the heaviness of the previous topic. 

“Then what is it? You keep saying ‘Oh Triss, it’s not a date, urrhhh blah blah blah’,” she affected his voice with a sarcastic bobble of her head. It elicited a chuckle out of Jaskier, making Triss smirk. “There it is. You’re no fun when you’re a grumpy gus. Now, come on. Let’s perk up and get you in a better mood for that date. Here, want a drink?”  
She moved to grab a cup, preparing to make his signature drink as Jaskier clocked in and pulled his apron on over his work polo. 

“I don’t have cash on me for that, just what I might need for… whatever tonight brings,” he countered, but Triss but a finger up. 

“It’s on me, crank-a-saur. Now, here, caffeinate!”

Jaskier took the drink with another eyeroll and they went about their day, chattering and joking with each other while still providing the best service they could. And it worked. Jaskier perked up and forgot all about his morbid thoughts. The closer he got to the end of his shift, the more excited he became. 

“And there you are, beautiful, hope this gets you through your finals study session tonight. Actually… Who are we kidding, this entirely is going to get you through it, and more. It’s brain juice, powerful stuff. You are going to just mow through your notes and blow through those tests because you are brilliant and-- Oh, thank you, you’re so generous! Come again real soon, and let me know how those tests went!” Jaskier waved off the last customer, picked out the ten dollar bill she had put into the tip jar, turned, and waved the bill at his face like he was fanning himself off. “I think I win the bet today, so I’ll just be taking my winnings and--” 

“Ah ah! Your shift is over. Mine isn’t. I have two more hours to break 100,” Triss snatched the ten out of Jaskier’s hand and stuffed it back into the jar. Snickering, Jaskier looked at the clock and bit his bottom lip. 

“Can’t I stay the extra hour before I have to leave?” Jaskier turned to ask Triss who was already shaking her head. 

“Nope. Nope nope. Budget can’t afford your extra hour, sorry.”

“You sure it’s budget and not you just torturing me?” Jaskier’s shoulders dropped and he gave her puppy dog eyes but it didn’t work. She just shook her head again. 

“As much as I like watching you squirm, it really is budget. You can sit in the lobby while you wait, no big deal, but you best get out from behind my counter,” Triss shooed him away despite his whining and digging his heels in. 

Sighing in resignation, Jaskier grabbed his bag (that Triss chucked over the counter at him) and went to the bathroom to change. There, he primped and preened in front of the mirror, fluffing his hair and adjusting the fake-gold herringbone necklace, his many rings, and the circle sunglasses he had pushed up on his forehead. He pulled out his eyeliner and scrunched his face up.   
“Hmm…”

After a very intense two second debate, Jaskier swaggled his head, shook his hips, and hummed to himself as he popped the cap off and lined his lids with just enough eyeliner to make his eyes pop. 

Wandering out of the bathroom, Jaskier went up to the counter and posed for Triss. 

“Well?”

“Yeess!! Boy, you look great! Dreamboat McStud Muffin won’t know what hit him,” she leaned over the counter, folding her arms under her body, “the sunglasses are a nice touch.”

“Thanks. I thought so, too. I wonder what we’re gonna do. Dinner? Maybe a walk in the park. Oh, or maybe he’s going to take me to his house!” Jaskier gasped, leaning in, too. 

“You have protection?” Triss stage whispered. Jaskier blushed violently, his jaw dropped wide and his eyes blinked rapidly as he drew back, searching for a retort but couldn’t come up with more than, “Triss... Merigold!... I--I…” which just made Triss burst into uncontrollable laughter. 

“That--that isn’t even… it’s a first date!!” 

“Calm down,” Triss giggled, patting Jaskier’s cheek, “I’m just teasing. Besides, ‘a first date’? Says the same man who, just last week, was talking about how he would, and has, banged a total stranger if they gave him the time of day. What happened to that guy?” she sassed at him.

“I dunno, mate, this guy is different. I kinda don’t wanna just hump and dump, you know?”

“I know, I know, you’ve said he’s different like fifty times by now. Just be safe, yeah?”

“When am I not safe?”

“Let’s see, there’s the subway tracks, the crosswalk, the cocoa you slipped on, the--”

“Oh shut it,” Jaskier laughed, turning away and going to sit down. He pulled out his phone and scrolled his social media, lamenting when he got to his Instagram that he hadn’t been able to upload anymore clips of songs since he lost his guitar. Every other minute, Jaskier drew down the top tray on his phone to look at the time which seemed to just crawl by. He finished his drink and had half a mind to get another but Triss looked busy and he didn’t think it would be too good an idea to be too hyped up on caffeine. He was already nervous enough as it was. 

Finally,  _ finally _ , it was five fifteen and Jaskier couldn’t wait any longer. He threw his cup away, shouldered his bag, and waved at Triss who gave him a huge thumbs up and grin from behind the counter before he left the shop and carefully crossed the street. Jaskier looked back and forth on the sidewalk as he debated where he should wait when a tap on his shoulder startled him. 

“You’re early,” Geralt said, pocketing his hands while Jaskier jumped and turned. 

“Ohhohoh! You startled me! Haha. Erm, well you did say not to be late so I figured the best thing to do was be early,” Jaskier replied, placing a hand on his chest and laughed. Geralt only cocked his brow with vague amusement in his eyes. Then, he jerked his head in the direction of the parking garage and started walking without a word. Jaskier readjusted the collar of his floral shirt as he followed along. 

“So, what’s the plan then? Should I prepare myself for you to reveal you’re actually a serial killer and you’re taking me to your lair where you’re going to dismember me and sell my parts for cash?” Jaskier asked casually. It earned him a half lidded stare from Geralt. “Haha. Kidding. Just kidding. You don’t quite seem the, erm... Murder-y… type.” 

“Hmm,” Geralt almost laughed, at least that’s what Jaskier thought the hum sounded like. It was a short chuff through the nose that could have passed for a single staccato chuckle. Something about the thought of making Geralt laugh made Jaskier feel good. Real good. 

As they reached the car, Geralt put a hand up.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” He asked. Jaskier cocked his head. 

“Well, yeah, obviously I’m wearing this, Geralt. Otherwise I’d be naked and, well, as gorgeous as I am in my birthday suit and no matter how much you want to see that, it would be considered quite the taboo to be--”

“I meant to dinner.”

“O-oh. Dinner? Erm, yeah. Why, is there a problem?” 

Geralt rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh. 

“What? Do you have a problem with my floral shirt? I happen to think it really brings out the blue in my eyes. It certainly--”

“The Larkspur has a dress code. I can’t take you there with you wearing that.”

“Oh, right. Cuz then you’d just look downright ridiculous, wouldn’t you, wearing that trashy getup while I’m here in my Sunday Best,” Jaskier gestured to Geralt’s crisp black suit and trench coat. Geralt just pursed his lips, staring at Jaskier with narrowing eyes. 

“What? Oh, come now. Don’t tell me you’ve not got a sense of humor. Besides, can’t a big powerful man like you get your date into a restaurant like The Larkspur wearing whatever they want? Surely you know the owner or manager or something,” Jaskier said, almost challengingly.

Geralt stared Jaskier down before heaving a sigh with the roll of his eyes and opening the door of the car. Jaskier smiled to himself, adjusted his collar, and once Geralt unlocked the passenger door, he slid in. 

“Buckle up,” Geralt ordered, turning the car on. 

“Ohh, yes sir. How sweet, you’re so worried for my well-being enough to want me to be safe and secure in case of a crash,” Jaskier saluted. He grabbed the seatbelt and buckled in, adjusting the strap across his chest and lap. 

“I don’t crash,” Geralt rumbled back. 

“Sure you don’t. But others might. Not everyone’s so careful a driver as you, Geralt. There’s other dangers out there, you know. Drunk drivers, inattentive drivers, old aged drivers who, let’s face it, are long past their prime and really shouldn’t be on the roads in the first place. Just to name a few,” 

Geralt hummed softly to himself as the car started. 

“Regardless, I still think its sweet of you to be concerned enough for my well being that you tell me to buckle up and--”

“I’m concerned enough about my windshield to not want you to damage it if we do crash,” Geralt quipped back, making Jaskier blink. Geralt turned to give Jaskier a smarmy expression. “It would be expensive to replace the glass if you went headfirst through it.”

“Ah-ha! I knew you had a sense of humor,” Jaskier laughed, settling in as Geralt rolled his eyes again. With a low purr, the car accelerated out of the garage and onto the street.

The whole trip to the restaurant, Jaskier chattered about random nothings to fill the void of silence that was between the two. Odd drink orders, absurd school assignments, that cat that scared the everloving hell out of him. Occasionally, Geralt would acknowledge Jaskier’s ramblings with a ‘Hmm’ or a ‘Yeah’ or a ‘No’. That was all Jaskier really needed. He didn’t stop talking until they got to the restaurant. Geralt dropped Jaskier off while he parked and Jaskier walked quite confidently up to the host who gave him quite the shocked expression. 

“Yes, I believe we’ll be looking for a table for two, please,” Jaskier said, gesturing toward the door. The host just laughed, shook his head, and looked down at his book as if he were pretending that Jaskier had disappeared. “Erm. Excuse me. But you seem to have not heard me. Table for two, kind sir. Wouldn’t want to keep business waiting, or anything like that, you know.”

The host looked up at Jaskier with amused eyes. 

“You’re breaking the dress code policy like that. And even if you weren’t, I severely doubt that--” the host started condescendingly, lifting their face to give Jaskier a nasty look, when Geralt came up and placed a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder. 

“The Haute-Bellegarde table,” Geralt said to the host in a low tone. “Or do I need to speak with Mr. Henrickson?” There was a hard look in his eyes that made the host sober up from his attitude. 

“Erm. Yes sir. Right away, sir. This way,” the host stammered before grabbing up two menus and heading into the restaurant. Jaskier turned to Geralt who was wearing a self-satisfied smirk. 

“Wow! Lookitchu. It took less effort for you to get us in like that than lifting your little finger. Impressive!” Jaskier raised his brows. Geralt rolled his eyes, the smirk stayed, and he offered his elbow to Jaskier who took it happily and followed him in. 

Jaskier’s outfit definitely drew attention from the other patrons, or maybe it was the fact that he was on Geralt’s arm. Regardless, every eye in the restaurant was on them as they moved to the back where a corner booth tucked away in the darker back of the restaurant was waiting for them. The host moved a small placard with the words “Reserved - Haute-Bellegarde” off the tabletop before they snapped their fingers rapidly at a passing waiter who rushed off to grab table settings. 

“Your-your server will be… be by shortly,” the host stammered and backed away as Geralt and Jaskier sat down. 

“This place is utterly beyond fancy,” Jaskier commented, starting to feel a bit worried. He only had roughly thirty dollars in cash in his pocket, he probably couldn’t afford too much. 

Just as promised, a server came by, introduced herself as Jessaline and distributed the drink menu before leaving the two alone again. Geralt automatically passed the menu to Jaskier. 

“Oh uh, no, I’m good. Just water for me, thanks,” Jaskier glanced at the menu and pushed it back to Geralt who only grumbled softly. 

“Pick what you’d like.”

“Um. No, really, I’m good. Wine and me, you know, we don’t just get along and--”

“I said pick. What you like.”

“--and I think it would be absolutely delightful if we were to get some sort of red wine tonight, unless you think that something like a white wine would be better, then again its just--”

“Red wine it is,” Geralt took the menu and just at that moment, Jessaline came back. “One bottle of the Chateau Pontet-Canet and two glasses. And the appetizer menu,” he ordered. 

“You know, just… love when you take control, like that. Makes me all tingly inside,” Jaskier teased, tapping the table. In response, Geralt scoffed and rolled his eyes. There was a hint of humor in them, so Jaskier took it as a good sign.

“So, Geralt, CEO of the biggest life insurance company in the state. What made you decide to come out with a broke college student to the fanciest restaurant in the city?” Jaskier asked. He picked up the butter knife on the table and began twirling it between his fingers as he waited on Geralt to answer. He didn’t. 

Jessaline came by to distribute the glasses and poured the wine before she offered Geralt the appetizer menu who just passed it to Jaskier with an expectant expression. Jessaline looked to Jaskier as well. As much as he liked attention, Jaskier didn’t like this kind of attention and just picked the first thing that he saw. She nodded, took the menu, and left again. 

“Tell me a little about yourself. You’re so stoic and silent, there must be more behind those lovely eyes than meets the eye,” folding his hands under his chin, Jaskier continued to prod at Geralt. His soft smile started to fade as Geralt continued to remain silent, sipping from the wine glass and spreading his cloth napkin on his lap as Jessaline brought the appetizer forward. It was some odd looking meat dish, with what looked to be chunks of sausage in a creamy paste, along with some (unidentifiable to Jaskier) leaf clippings likely from some rich herb, all set in individual spoons surrounded by some artisanal crackers that looked like they had seeds pressed into them prior to baking. She then placed dinner menus in front of them while Geralt remained silent, taking one of the spoons into his mouth and dismissing her. 

A few moments of continued silence went by before Jaskier heaved a heavy sigh.

“Alright, Geralt, if this is how the whole dinner is going to be, I’m going to leave right now. I’ve had enough pity fucks to know what’s going on and as much as I’d like to get one from you, I hardly think my dignity is so damaged that I’d subject myself to your pity. So if you’ll just excuse me--”

Jaskier moved to stand but Geralt pressed his hand to Jaskier’s that was on the table. 

“Tell me about yourself. You said broke college student. What are you in school for? And why?” Geralt rumbled, his eyes on the appetizer board before they glanced up at Jaskier. God… Zeus… Odin… Whoever above, he was weak to that expression. Jaskier slowly lowered himself back into the seat and looked to the side, at the restaurant, before looking to Geralt. 

“Is that ‘date’ conversation? Or ‘getting to know you to sell insurance to you’ conversation?” Jaskier asked softly. 

“I… would assume that one gets to know the other person on a date,” Geralt reasoned. 

Red wine was gone in an instant from Jaskier’s glass as he sucked it down and thumbed his lower lip before he nodded. So this was indeed a date. Good to know. 

“Well, I wouldn’t really know. The last real date I was on was with this shitty ex of mine and all he could talk about was money and sex, and every other encounter I’ve had was a literal hookup, so I haven’t real experience with the whole dating scene truly. If you say this is generic date conversation, I’ll take it. So. Schooling, huh? Well, I’m in the B of A school for music. That’s, erm. Bachelor of Arts. But surely you knew that.”

Geralt took a long sip from the wine before pouring a little more into Jaskier’s glass, for that Jaskier thanked him. Jaskier took another drink and set the glass down before grabbing one of the appetizer spoons and a cracker. 

“Oh! OH! This is delightful!” he said through a half full mouth. Entirely classy. “You should try this!” he said, even though Geralt already had.

A small chuckle escaped Geralt. With a barely camouflaged eye roll, Geralt grabbed a spoon and pointedly ‘tried’ the appetizer. 

“It is good,” Geralt nodded, dabbing the napkin on his lips. 

Smug, Jaskier continued. 

“Yeah, I’ve always had this affinity for music. Ever since I was a little kid. Drove my mother nuts, let me tell you. But knowing my affinity for music, I came here and enrolled. I intend to gather my education right and proper before I do anything else with it.”

Geralt gave Jaskier a meaningful expression. It was a bit deeper of a look than Jaskier was expecting, throwing him a bit off. 

“What do you want to do with your degree?” Geralt asked softly.

“Uhm… Well… I sort of,” Jaskier started, looking down at his hands as he rubbed them together. Just as he was about to answer, Jessaline came over. 

“Can I grab your dinner orders now?” she asked politely. At that moment, Jaskier realized he was leaning heavily across the table and he sat back, thumping his menu on the wood of the tabletop. He honestly didn’t know what to get. 

“Erm. Go ahead, Geralt,” he said, starting to blush. Okay, so Geralt seemed to cover the wine and the appetizer but he wasn’t expecting him to cover all of dinner. Scanning briefly over the menu, Jaskier rolled his lips between his teeth and took a sharp breath. The cheapest meal he saw was round about twenty bucks. Twenty bucks, plus tax and tip, Jaskier wasn’t sure he would be able to cover his meal. Jaskier grabbed his wine glass and took a deep drink, wondering what he’d gotten himself into. 

“I recommend the Chicken Saltimbocca. Unless you prefer seafood, the Seafood Linguini is pretty delightful as well,” Geralt said, looking at Jaskier as the waiter gazed at Jaskier with expectant eyes. 

“Erm…”

Both dinners that Geralt suggested were above thirty dollars each. No where near what he could afford. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? Maybe ask Geralt to go somewhere else? The muscles in his jaw clenched hard and Jaskier didn’t know what to do. 

“He’ll take the Chicken Saltimbocca,” Geralt ordered for Jaskier, gently taking the menu from his hands and pressing it toward Jessaline. 

“Wait, no!” Jaskier tried, but she was already gone. “Geralt, I… I can’t afford that…” 

“Quite alright. I’ve got it.”

“No, no, Geralt, I need to pay for some--”

“This is my treat, Jaskier. Just enjoy it.”

Jaskier rolled his lips between his teeth and sighed, settling down in his seat. That was one thing he didn’t like, at all. Owing people. He would have to think of a way to pay Geralt back. 

“Jaskier?”

“Hmm?”

“What did you want to do with your degree?” Geralt prompted once more, trying to pull Jaskier from the odd mood he was settling into. 

“Oh uh. Honestly?”

“Yes, honestly,” Geralt chuckled as he picked up his glass. “What, you think I’d ask you to lie to me?”

“I don’t know, you could have some odd lying fetish. Those exist, you know, don’t shame it. Not that I have it. It’s just more like--”

“Jaskier. Your degree?” Geralt gently redirected Jaskier. 

“Oh. Well, honestly, I’m not yet sure. Sort of see myself teaching, you know? Educating the next generation in the wonderful arts and importance of music in life. Music does so much for the soul, you know? It can soothe a broken heart, it can calm an anxious mind, it can make you fall in love… Music has been shown to have serious health care impacts, from reducing impacts of dementia and alzheimers to increasing the retention of content when studying to… to more than I can list here. There’s just so much it can do, and to not know about it, to not thoroughly be able to enjoy it, it’s a crime honestly. A true crime.”

Geralt watched Jaskier talk with interested eyes, his hands folded on the table. When Jaskier noticed just how hard he was being studied, he suddenly felt himself blush. He was about to start rambling when the food was brought forward. It honestly smelled amazing, especially since the last most complete meal he had was a cold cheeseburger and a half a bag of stale chips. 

“Good god in heaven above, Geralt,” Jaskier moaned filthily as he dug right in, stuffing his cheeks. He barely heard the low chuckling laugh from across the table. As he ate, he noted the textures, temperature, and flavor of the meal. It was very warm, not enough to burn his mouth but enough to get him to slow down a little bit more than he’d wanted to eat. So many of the flavors were vague reminders of the life Jaskier left behind but he didn’t really care. It was delightful, just as Geralt had promised.

“So. Music. Is that why you had a guitar on the subway tracks?” Geralt asked out of nowhere halfway through the meal. 

“Well, yes and no. If you remember, the guitar was on the tracks because of some idiot who decided to shove it, and myself included, off the platform and onto the tracks in the first place. But yes. That’s why I had the guitar. I used to play in the park all the time. It’s how I made money, you know, before I had to get the job at the coffee shop. Not that I don’t like it there, don’t get me wrong I  _ love _ working with Triss. But I miss singing.”

“Sing without it?” Geralt offered, shrugging a single shoulder. 

“It’s not the same. There’s just something about accompanying myself with the harmonies of the chords played just at the right time and volume and… I just miss it. Look. I’ve even been without playing for so long that I’m losing my callouses,” he offered Geralt his left hand, exaggerating as he is definitely not losing his callouses yet. “Look!” 

Geralt laughed softly and leaned forward to humor Jaskier, looking his fingers over. 

“Yes. Looks like it.”

Sighing longingly, Jaskier withdrew his hand and poked at this food with his fork. 

“Yeah. Eventually, I’ll make enough in tips to buy a new one. Well, after I pay everything off. You know. Life of a broke college kid,” He forced a laugh but it was blatantly obvious it was fake. 

“You really do miss the guitar,” Geralt stated more than asked. 

“Yeah. I really do. But it’s all good. Look on the bright side, right? I lost the guitar that night but could have lost a lot more. Thanks to you, I didn’t.”

The two smiled at each other and continued their meal. There came another hearty moan from the back of Jaskier’s throat after a while as he realized he was almost too full, sitting back and heaving a heavy sigh. 

“Goh, I can’t remember the last time I had anything that amazing,” Jaskier hummed, closing his eyes and letting his head rock back against the seatback. 

“Had it been that long since you were last laid, then?” Geralt quipped, sipping from the wine glass. For a second, Jaskier just blinked at Geralt, but then he laughed heartily. 

“He  _ does _ make jokes! Glad to know you’re not a soulless, stone cold robot, that there really  _ is _ a sort of personality in there!” 

“Don’t get used to it,” Geralt said with a self satisfied smirk as he dabbed at the corner of his lips with his cloth napkin. 

“Oh, but what if I want to?” Jaskier leaned forward after pushing his half full plate aside. Geralt just turned his head and looked to be watching the restaurant floor. 

“Come on, Geralt. You can’t tell me you’re not having a great time. I am. Really.”  
“Hmm.”

“Honestly! Like, to the point where if I were to die tomorrow, I would be a happy man for having had this night with you,” Jaskier swore. Those golden eyes snapped over at him and there was an expression on Geralt’s face that was hard to read. “What?...”

Geralt’s eyes softened and the expression sent a very warm wave through Jaskier’s body, feeling something akin to the comforting heat of a deep draw of hot chocolate from a toasty mug, with a heavy comforter wrapped around the shoulders while sitting in front of a crackling fire. The feeling made his heart flutter. His fingers tingled and he lifted his hand, slowly reaching it across the tabletop. Geralt’s eyes were locked in on Jaskier’s and neither seemed to be able to look away. They seemed to just keep drawing Jaskier in. Warm. Complex. Mysterious. There was something completely otherworldly in the deep patterns of gold and amber and yellow that surrounded the dilated pupils that bore into Jaskier’s eyes, even his soul. 

Jaskier opened his mouth to speak again when their server appeared at his side. 

“Everything okay still?” She asked. 

Both men blinked rapidly, sitting back from the table top that they had been leaning toward each other over, and looked up at her. 

“Yes, Jessaline. Everything is lovely. May we have the check, though?” Geralt answered, turning his head to face her with a polite expression. Jessaline nodded and stepped away, leaving them alone again. Jaskier sat back against the seatback and sighed, scratching his wrist under a couple of his bracelets before he dug out the money he had and placed it at the table. It earned him a frown from Geralt. 

“Put that away,” Geralt ordered. 

“Oh, come now, Geralt. You cannot honestly expect me to not contribute to the bill even the slightest bit.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow, put his hand on Jaskier’s wrinkled bills, and shoved them back at Jaskier. 

“Put. That away.”

Jaskier squirmed slightly in his seat, suddenly needing to readjust his jeans as they quickly became unexpectedly tight. 

“Now, Geralt, I know I said I like when you get all forceful and take control, but I insist. I need to pay my way, or at least help. Especially somewhere like this, and especially after you’ve saved--”

“Jaskier,” Geralt’s voice rumbled low, a warning tone, and his eyes seemed to darken as they stared Jaskier down. It was enough to send another wave of lust through Jaskier and make him swallow hard. 

“Alright. Alright. Fine. Fine, fine. But next time, dinner is on me and if you even try to argue that, I will rain all sorts of hell upon you, the likes of which you’ve never seen.”

Geralt smirked, his eyes glancing away just as Jessaline brought the ticket to them and thanked them for coming in. Immediately, Geralt pulled a couple of unidentifiable bills (unidentifiable to Jaskier as Geralt’s movements were quick enough to mask what bills they were exactly) out of his wallet and stuffed them into the small folder that the ticket was placed in, handing it back to Jessaline. 

“Keep the change. Jaskier,” Geralt said to her before gesturing for Jaskier to lead the way out of the restaurant. 

  
  


Full, content with how the date went, and somehow both more mollified and more intrigued than before, Jaskier sat in the passenger’s seat of the car as Geralt smoothly wove through traffic to bring Jaskier to where he said his apartment complex would be. A bittersweet feeling settled in Jaskier’s gut (along with that night’s dinner) and he heaved out a heavy sigh. From the periphery of his vision, he noticed Geralt was watching him. 

“Suppose this is where we part ways for the night, is it?” Jaskier asked, sitting up from how he was slouched in the seat. 

“Suppose it is,” Geralt replied, one hand on the wheel still as his torso was turned toward Jaskier. 

“No chance this is the sort of ‘sleep together on the first date’ date, is it?” Jaskier asked teasingly. In response, Geralt only let out a single huffing chuckle and shook his head. “Damn, I’ll just have to work harder next time.”

Geralt slowly turned to face forward again, his other hand coming up to rest on the gearshift. His expression was unreadable and Jaskier waited for a few moments. 

“There’s going to be a next time, right? I thought this date went really good, good enough to warrant a second. Right?”

Geralt didn’t respond. 

“Shit, Geralt, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Still, Geralt was silent. 

“It was? Really? Goddamn, just rip my heart out why don’t you?” Jaskier laughed uncomfortably, unbuckling his seatbelt and clearing his throat. His hands fidgeted in his lap and he suddenly felt very self conscious. “Um. Well, sorry, then, I would say I’m usually better than this but really I’m not that much better, I don’t really know how to do this whole right-proper date thing and--”

“It was a lovely evening, Jaskier,” Geralt interrupted him. He turned his head slightly, gazing at Jaskier with such a soft gentle expression that Jaskier felt soothed. His anxieties ebbed and his body relaxed; he even smiled softly back at Geralt in relief. 

“It really was, Geralt. Thank you,” Jaskier’s own voice was softer, more subdued than his normal energetic level. A small smile pulled on Geralt’s lips as he closed his eyes and dipped his head slightly. 

“I’ll see you again soon, yeah? Around the coffee shop or another date. I mean, you know where I live and work now, and I know where you work, so we know where to find each other and all that. So we’ll get together again soon, right?”

“Hmmm,” Geralt resumed facing forward and looking to the road ahead.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jaskier grabbed the door handle and with a click, the door swung open and Jaskier stepped out. He looked up and down the sidewalk before turning back to the car. Before he shut the door, he leaned over to stick his head back into the car. 

“Thank you, again. I had an amazing time with you. Um. Good night, Geralt.”

“Good night, Jaskier,” Geralt rumbled, not looking at Jaskier. But that was okay. Jaskier closed the door of the car and heard it shift into gear before it slowly pulled away from the curb and cruised down the street before it disappeared around a corner. 

Taking a deep breath, Jaskier sighed contentedly. All in all, it really had been a beautiful night. Fatigue waved over Jaskier and he headed into the complex, heading toward his studio. He mindlessly got himself ready for and into bed where he closed his eyes and let his imagination run off with images of Geralt’s eyes, replays of the night, and fantasies of what this could turn into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boi guys okay so life has come up and bitch slapped my ass into The Pit^TM. I intended to post this with weekly updates but unfortunately life has other plans for me so please bear with me here. Thanks for sticking around and I hope you all keep enjoying the story ~ much love m'dudes


	5. Chapter 5

“There he is! It’s about goddamn time! Where have you been, Jasky? You’re late and you owe me the whole story, tell me everything!!” Triss almost screamed when Jaskier walked into the shop for his next shift. He ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, grinning at the ground, and she gasped loudly. “You didn’t?? You did!! How was it? Was he--”

“Triss, calm down,” Jaskier laughed. He moved behind the counter and grabbed an apron, tying it on. Luckily, it wasn’t at all busy. His shift started during a dead hour. 

“Tell me everything. I want to know everything from the moment you left the shop to the moment you left his bed,” 

“Triss! I didn’t sleep with him,” Jaskier blushed hard and Triss let out a disappointed whine. “Don’t give me that.”

“Oh, come on. You’ve been pining after his ass for weeks now, and you’re telling me that you, that  _ you _ of all people, didn’t jump his bones the minute you got the chance to?”

“I’ve told you before, he’s dif--”  
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. He’s different. Tell me everything though! Where’d you go, what did you two do?” Plopping her elbows onto the counter, Triss stared intently at Jaskier. With a roll of his eyes, Jaskier recounted the date fully, answering every question that Triss would interrupt with. At the end, she was sighing dreamily and looking like she wanted to melt on the countertop. 

“I’m so jealous! You know how long since I’ve had a date? Let alone one with a rich mysterious stranger who not only paid for a fancy meal but is actually into you? Ugh,” Triss rolled to lean against the counter on her lower back instead of her lower belly. 

“Oh, shut up. He’s not ‘into’ me,” 

“Isn’t he? Do you really think he’d do all the things he’s done if he wasn’t into you?” 

“I don’t know, Triss,” Jaskier picked up the small cleaning pail that was kept beneath the register and dunked a rag into it, sopping up a heavy amount of water to plop onto the counter and push around. “He’s just so… he’s hard to read.”

“How so?”

“I mean, like, there’s times he seems like he’s an actual human. He’s laughed, he’s smiled. He’s joked with me. But there’s other times when I can’t be sure he even wants to be near me. He gets these distant looks, sometimes when he’s looking at me, sometimes when he’s looking away, like he’s lost or conflicted. It just feels like there’s so much more to him than he is letting on. He--”

“I swear to all that is holy, Jasky, if you say ‘He’s different’ one more time, I am going to stick my face into this blender,” Triss interrupted. Jaskier laughed and playfully slugged her shoulder. 

“And if you call me Jasky one more time, I’m going to stick your face into the blender myself.”

“So when do you think you’ll go out again?”

“I dunno. He didn’t say much when he dropped me off and… well, he was hard to read. I sort of had an idea to bring him a big cup of coffee at some point if I don’t see him any time soon.”

Jaskier continued wiping the counter down, dunking his rag in the soapy water mixture and sloshing the liquid along the counter as he spoke. The door dinged and Triss moved around Jaskier to help the customer that had come up to the register. The two moved around each other, Triss making the drink and Jaskier cleaning up after her, expertly, dancing from one side to the other and back like a well practiced and synchronized dance. At the end, the customer tipped and left, and Triss flopped against the counter again. 

“So while we wait for Mysterious Babe to sweep you off your feet again, what do you plan to do with your time?” She asked, picking up an empty cup, setting it on the edge of the counter just so a little less than half of it was hanging over the edge, and hitting it from underneath to make it flip into the air and land on the counter. She’d do it again and again, making a fist pump if the cup landed right side up. 

“Probably study for school. I haven't been putting too much effort into it lately, I’m starting to fall behind really. Not like it’s that big a deal. Undergrad classes and all. Besides, my teachers love me. Who couldn’t?”

“I think I could list some people who couldn’t. Myself included. Kidding,” Triss laughed at the mock offended expression on Jaskier’s face. Giving her a defiant look, Jaskier put a hand under the rim of the cleaning bucket and very deliberately tipped it over. All of the soapy water spilled out and flooded the counter, dripping down onto the floor with wet little plops. 

“Hey! What are you doing?” Triss hopped back, avoiding getting hit by any of the water. 

“Proving you right, how could anyone love such a pain in the ass such as me? Oh, woe is me, what ever shall I do to earn anyones affections in a world like this, where I can’t even control my own actions. Sigh,” yes he said sigh instead of actually sighing, “I suppose I’m just doomed to live a life lonely and lacking of love, doomed to die an old, handsome, man all alone in a cold home.”

Triss laughed and grabbed a stack of cleaning towels, chucking them at Jaskier. They hit him in the face and he laughed too, catching the towels and stacking them on the dry countertop behind him. 

“Okay, drama queen, clean your mess up before that water gets anywhere dangerous,” Triss rolled her eyes and turned to head to the back of the house. Jaskier turned as well, grabbing a couple towels with one hand and moving to grab the sopping wet towel that he’d left in the puddle of water. 

“Jaskier!” 

Jaskier jumped, his fingers just a mere inch from the towel jerking back and his head snapping up. Geralt was there, half way into the shop, staring at Jaskier with -- was that fear in his eyes? Panic? And now relief, as he walked toward the counter and made eye contact with the towel on the counter. 

“Geralt! Is everything okay? You look...”

“Everything’s fine, it’s just-- Jaskier. I… I’d like to order a drink?” Geralt said hurriedly. Jaskier didn’t believe him. There was something very off about the way Geralt gestured away from the puddle of water and toward the register. 

“Well, yeah, I can get you taken care of, but I gotta clean this up first, you know? It’s a hazard to have the water all over the place,” Jaskier moved to touch the towel again but Geralt took a sharp breath and was suddenly behind the counter, grabbing Jaskier’s wrist. 

“Ah! Hey! You--Geralt, you can’t be back here. What are you doing? You’re going to get me into trouble,” Jaskier tried to pull his hand back but Geralt’s grip tightened painfully and he was shoved away from the counter. 

“Don’t you pay attention to what you’re doing? To your surroundings? You would think with someone as prone to accidents as you have been, you would learn to be more aware,” Geralt growled hard, throwing Jaskier’s arm down and releasing it at the same time. 

“Excuse me?” Jaskier almost stumbled at the action, grabbing his wrist and rubbing it softly. “I don’t know who shoved the stick up your ass or how they happened to get it sideways but maybe you need to take a moment to pull it back out before you try to treat me like that, Geralt, I am--” he was in the middle of glaring and giving Geralt the what-for when Geralt pointed at the water. Then, his finger trailed up to the wall of the counter and then over to where Jaskier hadn’t seen an exposed wire from the blender sitting in the water. Jaskier paled. The ground seemed to shift beneath his feet and he wrapped an arm around his torso, feeling a wave of nausea as his head suddenly went light. 

“O...Oh…. G-Geralt,” he breathed softly just as his knees went weak with all the odd feelings that swam in his gut. Geralt moved forward and gently took Jaskier’s arm, hooking his own under Jaskier’s arm, and guided him out from behind the counter. Just as he did, Triss came around the corner and gasped. 

“What’s happened? Is he okay?” she rushed forward. 

“He’s fine. A little woozy. Do you have a breaker for the wall along the counter there?” Geralt asked, supporting Jaskier who looked like he was going to faint or throw up or scream at any moment. 

“Yeah, what--”

“You need to turn it off. Now.”

Triss looked to Jaskier before she nodded and went back to the back of the house. Geralt moved Jaskier to one of the booths where he sat him down and knelt in front of him. 

“Are you alright?” Geralt asked gently, taking Jaskier’s hand. A few deep breaths and a couple moments trying to calm the hell down, and Jaskier was coming back to his senses. 

“I think so but… Geralt… I… I feel like--”

“Like you’re in shock? I don’t doubt that. You just escaped injury, and rather serious injury at that. Touching that towel, you could have gotten an electrical burn, and that would not have been fun. I’m… I’m sorry for reacting like that. You were right - you deserve to be treated better than I had treated you just then,” Geralt spoke softly, smoothing a hand over the back of Jaskier’s. 

“I think that’s the most you’ve ever spoken to me, Geralt,” Jaskier mused, looking at their hands together. 

“Mmmh,” Geralt chuckled softly, shaking his head. Geralt’s fingers moved to Jaskier’s wrist where there were red marks from Geralt having grabbed it so hard a moment ago. Words could not even begin to describe just how  _ good _ it felt. He had to hold back the soft moan he wanted to let out just feeling Geralt’s fingertips caressing the back of his hand. 

Almost at the moment that Jaskier thought of how good this was feeling, Geralt let go and stood back up, stepping back like he couldn’t get enough space between him and Jaskier. Here, Jaskier did let out a noise, but this time it was a disappointed whine. 

“Okay, is someone going to tell me what’s going on?” Triss stepped around the counter a moment later. Both men looked up at her. “Well?”

“The frayed cord for the blender. It uhm. It’s sitting in that water. I almost touched it,” Jaskier pointed to the counter, looking back at Geralt. “He saved me from death again.”

“Over exaggeration. You would have been fine,” Geralt turned, walking toward the door. 

“Wait! Geralt,” Jaskier scrambled to follow. “Wait. You’re just going to leave? Why were you here in the first place, weren’t you going to get a drink?” 

“Lost my appetite for coffee,” Geralt rumbled back at Jaskier. Placing himself in Geralt’s path, Jaskier frowned up at him. There was an exchange between the two, one of Jaskier wordlessly, confusedly, demanding to know what was going on, and one of Geralt clearly refusing to say anything further, and clearly wanting to get the hell away from here.

“So this is the famous Geralt! I  _ have _ to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you, Jaskier sure likes to talk about you and--” Triss spoke up, reminding Jaskier they weren’t alone.

“Triss,” Jaskier hissed as he looked around Geralt, blushing and giving her a death stare. She was sticking her hand out to Geralt who had turned to look at her. 

“Yep, that’s me. Triss Merigold, shift/scheduling manager for Coff-Whee and exceptional best friend to Jaskier. Great to finally meet the man behind the stories,” she grinned. In reply, Geralt only hummed and looked at Jaskier who scrunched his mouth up to his nose and huffed. “So when’s the next date? Jaskier so loved the first one and--HEY!” 

At that, Jaskier moved to shove Triss away. 

“This isn’t the time nor place, and we are certainly not discussing a second date with you right there!” 

“No! No, this is great! Come on. Geralt, tell him!” Triss laughed, calling out over Jaskier’s shoulder as he tried to push her away from the insurance CEO. 

“There won’t be a second date,” Geralt said. Both Jaskier and Triss stopped, turned, and stared at Geralt with disbelief.

“What?”

“What?”

“Why not?”

“But you said--”

“Jaskier told--”

“The first went so well--”

“The first date was the only date, and really, it wasn’t a date to begin with. It was more a dinner meant to pacify your curiosity and interest. That was all,” Geralt interrupted the two, gazing at them both with disinterested eyes. Triss’s jaw dropped and Jaskier just started at Geralt with disbelief. 

Just to pacify Jaskier? Had he really been that annoying? And here he thought things were going so well between them. The soft looks, the exchanged laughter, the subtle yearning to come closer to each other -- or maybe that  _ was _ just Jaskier. Maybe he’d misinterpreted all this and got his hopes up for nothing. Figures. 

His blue eyes, dulled by the news, lowered and he clenched a hand over and over subtly by his side. Right then. Well, that should be it then. He wouldn’t bother Geralt again, he’d just drop it and--

“You can’t be serious! Taking him on a date like that and paying for everything, driving him home, asking about him, and actively saying its a date, and now you’re going to tell him it wasn’t? You’re so full of it, Geralt Whatever-your-last-name-is. Why would you keep showing up then, huh? Unless you’re just here to torment him, which is quite cruel. But I don’t believe that for a second, given how many times you’ve intervened in dangerous circumstances to save him. And did you even see yourself there apologizing to him just now? Come on, dude. There’s no way you’re not into the kid, and there’s no way I’m letting you walk away without setting a second date. Now. What’s a good day and time for you?” Triss stepped up, putting an arm around Jaskier, and looked expectantly (and with a thinly veiled threatening expression) up at the CEO. While she spoke, Jaskier looked at her, looked at the ground, and then looked up at Geralt with similar puppy dog eyes to the ones he gave Geralt the same night they met. 

A muscle worked in Geralt’s jaw as he turned his head, looking out the window toward the building he worked in. 

“Ah-ah! Not letting you get away that easily. Come on. Geralt. Right, Jasky?” Triss shook Jaskier who nodded. 

“Yeah. You even said so the other night,” Jaskier said, only internally perturbed that she kept insisting on this silly version of his nickname. 

“No, I didn’t,” Geralt countered, his eyes snapping back to stare down Jaskier. 

“Yes you did. You did your little ‘Hmm’, and it was your ‘Yes’ hmm. I can tell. You get a little lift in the corner of your lips, and your eyes look less empty and hollow when you hum your ‘Yes’ hmm.”

Geralt looked to Triss who just shrugged and gestured at Jaskier again. Letting out a heavy sigh, Geralt rolled his eyes and looked at Jaskier. 

“Alright. But just this second one. That’s it. No more after that”

“We’ll see about that,” Triss said, a suggestive tone to her voice. Jaskier moved to kick Triss away but she jabbed him in the ribs. 

“Thanks for all your help, Triss, but I think I can take it from here. Surely Geralt--”

“No, no, I’m staying right here to make sure he sets the date,” she said firmly. They both then looked to Geralt who wore an expression like he’d rather be shoving bamboo shoots under his nails than be standing right here dealing with this.

“What would you like to do for our… ‘second date’...?” Geralt finally said slowly. 

“Erm… You know, we did the dinner thing, so that feels a little played out, don’t you think? And I’m not quite someone for the monotony of doing dinner over and again. There’s nothing great in theaters right now, but I heard the Adventure Games Land is reopened again. You know, after there was that fire. Oh! And I haven’t been to an arcade in years, and they just got a new minigolf course and, oh, can we, Geralt?” Jaskier suddenly grew quite excited, stepping toward Geralt with bright eyes and a wide smile. 

“Adventure Games Land?” Geralt asked. The tone he used was almost condescending but behind Jaskier, Triss cleared her throat loudly. “Hmm… Alright.” Looking away, Geralt tucked a hand into his pocket. “I have some business to attend to so… Two weeks from today?” 

“Two weeks from today is perfect,” Jaskier said, looking to Triss who nodded her approval. “At five?” 

“Seven.”

“Seven it is! I’m so excited, Geralt, I could just scream!” 

“Please don’t,”  
“Right right, no, you’re right. So, um, still lost your appetite for coffee or would you like a cup? I can make it right up for you, no problem, and--” Jaskier gestured to the register, hoping to come up with any sort of excuse to keep Geralt around longer that he could, but Geralt interrupted him. 

“No. I have to leave,” He said, turning away from them and walking out the door before either could stop him. 

“Well, he’s charming,” Triss scoffed, stepping away. 

“See what I mean though? He’s so hard to read and all. He wasn’t like that at all on the date, or before you came around the corner. It’s almost like he’s… embarrassed or something.” 

“Maybe he’s closeted,” Triss offered, carefully unpluging the blender once they both got back to behind the counter and started cleaning up. “Maybe he’s married.”

Sighing, Jaskier shrugged as he dabbed at the water with the towels. 

“Could be. Either way, the whole ‘just to pacify you’ thing didn’t seem right to me. Maybe he was embarrassed. I’ll have to ask next time I see him.”

“Yeah, you’d better, and tell--”

“Tell you about it too, I know, I know.”

Jaskier chuckled and shook his head, scooping up the pile of wet towels and carrying them to the dirty towel bin in the back. Standing back there, he lifted his hand slowly and cradled it in his other, looking over the skin on the back of it and on his wrists. He trailed his fingers along the skin and sighed, already missing Geralt’s touch. It was going to be a long couple of weeks, for sure. 

  
  
  


Only one week had gone by, though it honestly felt like years to Jaskier. School was becoming a bit rough, almost overwhelming. Why did the undergrad require so much work? Hadn’t he already proven himself proficient enough with maths and sciences, enough that he could just focus on actual music instead of these basic subjects? Work wasn’t helping too much, either. Honestly, he adored Triss but these early and long shifts the morning after having late night classes, and having to stay up even later to finish assignments, was killing him. He’d trudge into work, more tired than the night before, and he’d started losing some of his cheery attitude. A couple times he’d lost his temper and blown up at Triss who, bless her she could hold her own, finally pieced it together what was happening. 

“Jaskier, why don’t you just take the rest of the day? We’re good here and you’ve had a rough go. Take the time to rest,” Triss offered after he frustratedly kicked a cooler when he mis-made someone's drink. 

“That’s not---” Jaskier turned to half-snarl at Triss before he deflated and sighed. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean--”

“You’re all good, babycakes. Go on, then. Have a nice evenin’, maybe swing by the liquor store and pick up something to sip on. You need it. Trust me,” Triss put her hands on Jaskier’s shoulders, turning him toward the door. “Then next shift, we can start fresh. Don’t make me change my mind!”

Sighing, Jaskier took his apron off and flopped it into the bin before he clocked out and shuffled home. He’d taken her advice and detoured a block to the liquor store for a cheap bottle of vodka before he made it to the apartment complex. Brown bag in hand, grumbling, and cranky, he moved to the elevator but there was a sign crookedly taped to it. Out of order. Jaskier let out an almost feral snarl. Cherry on top, this was, really, he thought angrily as he stomped toward the stairs. 

The whole way up, he was grumping and grumbling to himself. Toward the top stair, he slipped and his knee slammed into the edge of a stair bruising it, the vodka bottle shattered against the edge of another stair as his arm flew up to try to catch himself, and he became drenched in pungent booze. 

“Oh fuck it all!” He shouted, sliding a couple stairs down and rolling to sit on his bum, grabbing at his knee. “What else, huh?” He yelled at the ceiling, at nobody in particular. “What else?!... couldn’t have even had the courtesy of putting me out of my misery by falling all the way and breaking my goddamned neck, no just had to bruise a knee and break a bottle. Fucking great, cuz it’s not like these are my favorite jeans or anything. It’s not like I’m not having the roughest time as it is!! Fucking hell…”

When he’d had his rant, Jaskier slowly gathered himself and scooped up any stray glass he could find on the steps into the brown bag that was mostly soaked through, and made his way up to his level. There, he dropped the bag in the trash bin beside the stairs. 

He looked back at the stairs with a dark expression. 

“Fucking bollocks it all,” He swore, letting the thought to just dramatically throw himself down the flight and end it all flit thorugh his head before he turned and headed toward his unit. He shoved his hands into his pocket and fished out his keys. No booze, a handful of assignments overdue, and the rough day still buzzing about in his skull, Jaskier resigned himself to a shower and bed instead of relaxing like he intended to. But as he approached the unit, something caught his eye. 

It was a stand. An A-frame. And presented proudly upon it was the absolutely most beautiful acoustic guitar Jaskier had ever seen. He gasped loudly and froze in place, his wide eyes staring at it. 

The strings glittered in the flickering lights of the apartment hallway, the tuning pegs shining brightly and the body a crisp polished surface that was so clean and imperfection free that Jaskier was nervous to even touch the guitar. All that was with the guitar was a small tag attached to a string that hung from one of the tuning pegs. 

Slowly, wondering if he’d knocked himself out on those stairs and now was dreaming, Jaskier stepped forward and gently lifted the tag off the peg. 

_ Quit bitching and play  _

The note was written in a crisp neat handwriting, so neat that Jaskier might have mistaken it for having been typed instead of handwritten, if not for the slight ink smear across the last couple of letters, like the fingers that wrote the note brushed it off just a moment too soon before the ink had dried. He flipped it over and found nothing on the back, and turned it over once more to look at the lettering. 

“Quit bitching and play…”Jaskier laughed, tears pricking at his eyes as he tenderly lifted the guitar, cradling it like a fragile newborn baby, and looking it over with worshipping reverence. 

A small noise escaped him, a breathy exclamation. The guitar was utterly and entirely perfect. Each fret was pressed perfectly into the neck, each string perfectly strung through the capstans. There was no stray extra string sticking out, there weren’t even any smudges or fingerprints, the guitar was immaculate.

Jaskier jumped slightly, startled, when a tear fell from his cheek onto the wood with a soft plop. He shook his head and wiped the tears away before he set the guitar down on the stand, hardly letting his hands move away until he was perfectly sure that it was totally secure. Shaking hands struggled to pull his keys out and unlocked his door. The door swung open and Jaskier whipped around. Picking the guitar back up, he carried it tenderly into the apartment, set it on his bed like it was a bomb that may explode, and retrieved the A-frame before locking up.

Once he was in his room, he picked the guitar up again and sank onto the bed cross legged. There, he continued to examine the guitar. His fingers smoothed up and down the strings as he moved his eyes up to finally look at the markings on the top of the head of the guitar. There was the name brand of the guitar, painted in a curly font. 

“Martin & Co, Est 1833”

Jaskier shouted in surprise, looking at the guitar in disbelief. 

“No fucking way…” He traced the lines of the painted logo, exhaling softly. “Ohhhh… I'm so totally giving whoever got you a blowie. Shit, multiple ones.” 

The note nagged at his mind as he slowly ran his fingers down the length of the strings, feeling the ridges of the strings and the frets one again but with a new sense of respect. 

_ Quit bitching and play.  _

Hadn’t that been something Triss had said to him one shift while he lamented yet again the loss of the guitar? That when he got a new guitar he would finally stop bitching and play?

Giving his shift manager a blowie was surely to be awkward. Well, he wasn’t the type to say no to that sort of thing, really, but truthfully, that could complicate work. Well. He’d have to figure out  _ some _ way to thank her. 

His fingers picked at the strings and he moaned ecstatically to hear that they were in absolute perfect tune. 

Yep. He was half chub. 

Jaskier positioned his fingers and began playing with ease. Each note rang out beautifully, the strings responded perfectly, and he fell deeply in love once more with music. It was like the entire bad day, bad week really, never happened. All that mattered now was him and this guitar and the beautiful music he played all night from songs from his favorite handful of bands to original pieces he’d dilly dallied around with in the last few years. 

Honestly, he’d lost track of time. 

He hadn’t realized he’d been playing until his fingers were numb, he hadn’t realized that he only stopped when his bladder was so full that the sharp pains of it nagging at him was nearly unbearable, he hadn’t realized that he didn’t even stop to eat dinner or a snack or drink anything. 

It wasn’t until the sun started pouring in through the blinds that Jaskier realized he’d played the night away. 

Blinking and sighing, he gently set the guitar aside and rubbed his eyes. None of his classes ran today and he wasn’t scheduled for any shifts, thankfully, so Jaskier figured he could have a nap before-- Oh! He could go play in the park again! He wondered if he was missed by his regulars. Well, the people who walked regularly in the area while he happened to be playing and thought to stop and listen to him, that is. What a treat that would be!

With such care, Jaskier settled the guitar onto the A-frame (of course, he kissed the head of the guitar, what do you take him for, a monster?) and shuffled about the studio to get a small snack, go to the restroom once more, and change into clean (because his clothes still smelled of the cheap vodka that had by now dried) clothes, and turn out all the lights before pulling his black-out curtains to drench the room in utter darkness. Then, he tucked himself away in bed after setting an alarm for three hours from now, and let himself sleep. 

  
  


It was about eleven in the morning when his alarm went off, waking him from his nap. Jaskier sat up, a little drowsy and confused, but then his eyes landed on the guitar and he grinned insanely huge. First thing’s first though. Grabbing his phone, he dialed the speed dial for Triss’ number and let it ring. 

“Which hospital and what happened?” Triss’ voice answered, making Jaskier frown. 

“Wait, what? No hospital, nothing happened. I was just--”

“You never call me, though. You only text. Something happened,” Triss replied, a bit of snark in her voice. 

“I am utterly offended! I can’t call my friend out of the blue?” 

“... I suppose you can, but this is highly suspicious… Wait. What is it, what do you want?”

“Shit, Triss, I can’t call without something being wrong or wanting something? Actually, yes, I do want something. I want to know where you got the money for a four thousand dollar guitar and why you thought it was a good idea to leave a _four thousand dollar guitar UNCASED AND UNATTENDED AT MY---”_ _  
_ “Hold up, hold up. What? I didn’t buy you shit. You’d know if I bought you something. It would have been gift wrapped and hand delivered so I could see your face!” She interrupted and countered. 

“Are you absolutely sure? Don’t you lie to me!”

“Jaskier. As much as I would love to have shut you up from your constant complaining about losing your guitar -- honestly, it’s been a whole month since that happened -- I couldn’t possibly afford to get you a guitar you deserve, let alone a four thousand dollar one. Maybe its your big bad CEO boyfriend. He surely has the money. Ever think of that?”

The two chatted a little more before Triss had to leave and Jaskier hung up. Geralt was a good candidate, but Jaskier just couldn’t see him going that far for Jaskier. Especially when he had to be practically threatened into a second date. Then again, the ways he’d looked at Jaskier and listened utterly intently to his ramblings about music?... Maybe. Next time they met, he’d have to ask. In the meantime, he had a park to get to.

He scrambled out of the bed, tangling in the blankets and eventually falling to the ground with a hard thump before he kicked the blankets off and made his way to the bathroom where he rushed through a cold shower, brushed his hair back quickly, and then jogged to the closet and grabbed an old worn down graphic tee and a pair of ripped up jeans. He slapped those on, laced up his high tops, threw the bomber jacket on, and then looked at the guitar. 

How was he going to transport that without a case?... He wouldn’t  _ dare _ take it by itself through the subway and to the park unprotected and exposed. Well, he  _ did _ have a second case, but it was old and grungy and not nearly even slightly deserving of housing the Martin. Then again, what choice did he have?... It was either the old case, which would provide a modicum of protection for the Martin, no case, which would surely (with his recent luck) lead to it being damaged or destroyed beyond repair, or not going at all. 

Sighing, Jaskier moved to his closet and pulled out the old case, dusting it off and glaring at it like it was his worst enemy. 

Just for extra protection, Jaskier lined the worn (and in places, completely gone) velvet with soft dish towels and washcloths before he lifted the guitar and gingerly settled it into the case. 

“You let one single injury befall the Martin and I’ll burn you alive,” he told the case, lowering the lid and clasping the latches securely. The moment he was assured that the lid wasn’t going anywhere, Jaskier lifted the case and strapped it to his back, grabbed his phone, his keys, and his wallet before he left the studio and locked up and, carefully, made his way down the stairs and out into the world. 

A mere hour later, he found himself entering the park with bright eyes and an excited vibration in his chest. It was crowded. Perfection. Absolute perfection. Jaskier moved his way to his usual spot where he set up, propping the case open, and plucking the strings lightly to make sure they were still in tune. Around him a couple of people glanced his way. Here he goes!

The first chords rang out confidently, proudly even, and Jaskier started singing. 

“ _ Digging for gold in my neighborhood, where all the old buildings stood, and they keep digging it down and down, so that their cars can live underground,” _

People passing by paused, a few stopped entirely and listened with pleasantly surprised or happy expressions. One stopped and called out at him, “Hey! Jaskier’s back!” to which Jaskier gave a cheeky head nod and wink before continuing with another song, segueing almost perfectly. 

“ _ And I have to speculate, that God Himself did make us into corresponding shapes, like puzzle pieces from the clay, And--” _

He went through a select handful of songs from his expansive repertoire, most of them covers since that’s what people tended to tip best for in his experiences here, some of them his originals, twice, in the time that he was there. 

_ “Worry about the future, worry about the past, think we’re gonna break before I get the chance to say this, dont wanna live without you,” _

The sun crawled across the sky, more time passing than Jaskier really could account for, but soon it started to darken as storm clouds began moving in, blocking out the light and casting ominous shadows over the park. 

“ _ You looked at death in a tarot card and you saw what you had to do, but Nobody knows you now when you’re dying in L.A., and nobody owes you now when you’re dying in L.A., when you’re dying in L.A., when you’re dying in L.A., the power the power the power, oh the power the power the power, of L.A.,”  _ He trailed off at the end of the song, letting the final chords slowly ring out, as he caught sight of a pair of golden eyes watching him toward the back of the crowd that gathered. Everyone else began applauding and Jaskier smiled softly, locking eyes with Geralt who looked both proud and embarrassed. 

“Thank you, thank you,” Jaskier spoke out to the crowd, though he didn’t break eye contact with Geralt as he bowed and waved, “I’ve been Jaskier and you’ve all been so lovely, thank you, thank you.”

Quickly, seeing how Geralt was turning to leave, Jasker flung the guitar over his back on its strap, snapped the latches closed on the case and picked it up, and jogged after him. 

“Geralt! Hey!” he called, catching up with ease as the change rattled around in the old case. 

“Jaskier. What a surprise,” Geralt said humorlessly. 

“What are you doing here? Don’t you work? Did you follow me, Geralt,” Jaskier teased, stepping in front of him and blocking the path. It earned him an exasperated expression. 

“I was meeting a client nearby,” 

“And you heard me play and thought to come listen? How sweet! Well, tell me. What did you think? How did you like it?” 

Geralt gazed down at Jaskier with half lidded eyes and just grunted before he turned and began walking in the opposite direction. 

“Rude! Come now, tell me! What did you think?” Jaskier hopped forward and kept pace with Geralt. 

“I think there’s a reason you’re stuck playing to stray crowds in parks,” Geralt replied. Hearing this, Jaskier gasped loudly and slapped his hand to his chest. 

“Excuse the everloving shit out of me, Geralt, but I think that has to be the single most--!” 

Geralt chuckled, giving Jaskier a sly smirk, and continued to walk. 

“Oh, you’re kidding! You’re joking again. There it is, that sense of humor. Not in the least bit hurtful. No, really, Geralt. What did you think?”

With the roll of his eyes, Geralt pocketed his hands in his long trench and glanced at Jaskier. 

“It was lovely.”  
There was a vulnerability to Geralt’s voice, a gentleness and an amount of affection, that Jaskier wasn’t prepared for. It was enough to stun him in place. Geralt made it a few paces away before he turned to look at Jaskier. A small smile pulled on his lips and he caught up with ease. 

“So, I know this amazing mom n’ pop diner just a few blocks away, what say you to a greasy heart attack on a bun with some heavy deep fried chips? I was going there anyway after playing but I’d love it if you joined me” Jaskier offered. He wasn’t sure why, but Geralt’s expression soured. The smile disappeared and the eyes went dark, in fact, the expression resembled the fearful panicked expression Geralt wore the other day in the coffee shop when Jaskier almost touched electrified water. 

“What’s wrong?”

Geralt’s eyes darted to him and he just shook his head. 

“Aida’s is closer and healthier,” Geralt commented, gesturing just down the pathway. 

“But Big Momma’s makes their ketchup in store,” Jaskier whined. 

“And Aida’s food won’t cut years off your life span the way Big Momma’s would,” Geralt replied, though his voice was a bit distant. “Aida’s, and you’re paying.”

Eager to repay some of his debt from the extremely expensive dinner date, eager to make Geralt happy, and eager for more time with Geralt, Jaskier agreed. He was suddenly hit with a wave of nausea and dizziness, like the world turned to turbulent sea beneath his feet, and he reached to clutch Geralt’s arm. 

“What is it?” Geralt asked. The sensation was hard to describe so Jaskier just shook his head. Maybe he’d need to go to the doctor soon given how often he keeps having these sensations. 

“Think I could use some sugar in me, you know? I don’t think I’ve eaten all day,” Jaskier chuckled. He gestured for Geralt to lead. and followed the CEO through the park and across the road to the cafe where they snagged an outdoor table. There, Jaskier tenderly set his new guitar on the table, emptied the case of his collection, and placed the guitar reverently into it. 

“You pulled in a good revenue,” Geralt commented, pushing a few coins and crumpled bills around. 

“Yeah, the Martin really helped. It’s brand new. Mysterious gift from a mysterious admirer,” his last sentence a teasing one as his eyes searched Geralt’s for any hint of emotion. He only grunted, disappointing Jaskier. Fine, then, he’d just have to work harder to get the confession out of him. “Yep. Brand new fancy guitar, this particular model is worth upwards of four thousand dollars, so whoever gave it to me must be rolling in it.”

Still nothing. The waiter brought them their water (to Jaskier's dismay that they didn’t have any soda, just water, tea, or coffee. Geralt was right. This was a healthy place to eat. And he was already hating it. Where’s the grease? Where’s the fat? Where’s the artery clogging delicious goodness?) and asked for their order. 

“Yeah, given how expensive this guitar is, maybe I could get whoever bought it to be my sugar daddy. Shouldn’t be too bad, throw them some attention and maybe a blowie here or there, and pay off all my shit.” There it was. Geralt’s eyes snapped up and he stared at Jaskier hard. The set of his jaw, the twitch in the muscle along his jawline, and the way his eyes bore into Jaskier’s told him he had him. He took a big drink from his water as Jaskier’s expression morphed into a smug grin. 

“After all, I owe them my life,” Jaskier said, heaving insinuation in his voice. 

“You do not owe anyone your life. Not for a guitar, or anything else,” Geralt snapped back, sitting upright when their sandwiches were brought forth. 

“Ah ha! So it was you! I knew it,” Jaskier exclaimed, grabbing his turkey club and took a massive bite. At that, Geralt’s eyes narrowed. 

“It was not me.”

“Of course it was! Who else would know I needed a new guitar and be able to afford one so expensive?” 

“Not me. Why would I buy you a guitar?”

“Because you adore me and you  _ did _ have fun on our date, and you want me to be happy cuz you love me?” 

Geralt’s eyes snapped to his plate, his jaw muscles worked again, and he suddenly stood up not having had a single bite. Without another word, Geralt swept away and left the small enclosure that the patio dining was contained in. 

“Shit, shit,” Jaskier stuffed more of the sandwich into his mouth. In a hurry he dumped a bunch of money onto the table and grabbed his guitar. He wasn’t that graceful in hopping the rail of the enclosure to chase Geralt, but he hadn’t cared. 

“Geralt! I’m sorry, wait! God you’re fast, how are you so fast? Geralt!” Jaskier called, chasing him yet again. Part of him wondered when he’d stop chasing Geralt and when Geralt would start chasing him for once. “Come on, have some mercy, I have a four thousand dollar guitar on my back, Geralt!!”

They went a couple blocks before Jaskier caught up and grabbed Geralt’s bicep. 

“Geralt. Please. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you back there.”

“Hmm.”

“Really. If you say you didn’t buy me the guitar, then you didn’t buy me the guitar. I won’t keep harping. I’m sorry. Just please don’t keep running away from me like this” 

Jaskier hadn’t realized they were approaching Geralt’s offices until he looked up and caught sight of that secretary of Geralt’s glaring intensely at the two as they approached. The look was enough to send chills through Jaskier’s body. His blood felt sluggish and he suddenly just wanted to be home buried in his blankets. 

“Erm. I’m going to go ahead and take my leave now,” Jaskier let go of Geralt, after he realized he was still holding on, and stepped back. 

“Geralt,” she said, her voice carrying the whole block’s length effortlessly over the sound of traffic.

“Yennefer,” Geralt said back, turning to Jaskier. He was stiff, almost robotic as he placed a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder and looked down at him. 

“You two look like you’ve got some important business to discuss so, yeah, I’m gonna go ahead and head home now. Thanks for comin’ out to see me, at least. And I’ll see you, what, in a week? Yeah? Comin’ to pick me up at my place?” Jaskier looked at Yennefer who looked to be absolutely fuming. 

“I’ll be there,” Geralt promised. The look in his eyes softened and he even managed the slightest half smile as he gazed down at Jaskier. Then, his hand slid down Jaskier's arm, he took Jaskier’s hand, and brought it up to lay a light staccato kiss upon Jaskier’s knuckles. He then let his hand go, leaving it hanging in the air, and turned to quickly walk toward Yennefer and usher her into the building. 

All Jaskier could do was stare after them even though they had gone inside minutes ago. His hand remained hovering in the air, the skin tingling where Geralt’s lips had brushed it. 

Feeling every bit the giddy lovesick school child he’d once compared himself to, Jaskier stumbled backwards and began walking himself to the subway where he’d head home. He’d grabbed the strap of the guitar case excitedly with both hands and every few steps would turn and look back at the building that was disappearing into the distance behind him. 

When he got home, he put his guitar away and flopped onto the bed. He held his own hand and sighed dreamily. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for continuing to stick with me! October is looking to be a mess (I am applying for a management position at work and its going to prove to be quite the challenge if I get it) but I'm hoping to keep up. You all are wonderful and I'm very thankful for your continued support! Feel free to HMU to chat if you'd so like on Tumblr @mysalyss or Twitter @mysalyssart <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting schedule, what posting schedule, time is a construct and nothing matters *throws this chapter at ya'll and runs*

Two days after that meeting, Jaskier found himself at work whistling wistfully with Triss eyeing him cautiously.

“Did someone finally get some action?” she asked eventually, when the last customer had moved away from the counter. She rubbed a damp cloth on the steam wand, turned it on to let it blow out any milk that may have clogged the end, and wiped it down again. 

“Surely don’t know what you’re speaking of,” Jaskier grinned back. He was in a chipper mood and had been ever since Geralt left that feathery kiss on his knuckles. 

“Yep. You got some. Who was it? Some lucky duck at the club? A classmate? Oohhhh Mister Dreamboat won’t be too pleased to know he’s got competition,” Triss flopped the towel over her shoulder and leaned against the counter. Jaskier laughed. 

“No, no, I haven’t slept with anyone. Just in a good mood, you know? Sun is bright and shiny, the customers are being quite lovely. I’ve got that guitar and school seems to be smoothing out, and…”

“And? Oh, Oh oh! You’re holding out! Tell!” Triss skipped closer. 

“And… Geralt may or may not have kissed me,” 

Triss loudly and violently gasped then squealed, enough so that Jaskier laughed and tried to shush her, gesturing with his hands for her to settle down. 

“He didn’t _actually_ kiss me, it was more like a… You know in those old movies or period pieces when the dude kisses the girl’s knuckles?”

“Ohhhh he did that? That’s so romantic!” Triss fluttered, twirling a strand of her red hair. “Need me a man like that. Why do you get all the luck?”

Jaskier shook his head and turned, continuing to clean down his station. 

“His secretary didn’t look too pleased. I don’t think she likes me much,” Jaskier commented as Triss continued to grumble about the shallowness of her dating pool. 

“Well, maybe she’s into him and you’re moving in on her man. Don’t think anyone would be too pleased with that. You wouldn’t be happy if I started moving in on Geralt, now, would you?”

“Makes sense but, Triss, you should see the way this woman looks at me. Like she wishes I were dead. Its bone chilling, to say the least. Geralt reassured me she’s just the secretary but, is it too early in the relationship to be concerned about her?”

Triss turned and shrugged. 

“Beats me. Probably want to keep an eye out though. A woman scorned, hell and fury, and all that shit. You know? Last thing you need is a letter opener in the neck,” 

Jaskier snorted, shook his head, and looked at the clock. 

“I’m out. Mind if I make my drink before I head out?”

“Sure, babes. Just clean up!” 

Taking the apron off and unclipping his name badge, Jaskier untucked the polo from his belt line and went about preparing a large black coffee with freshly ground beans. 

“Black coffee? That’s unlike you. You’re such a slut for sweets and hate the bitter coffee taste,” Triss looked over, frowning. 

“It’s for Geralt. I’m going to take it over and say hi,” Jaskier explained, popping the cap onto the venti cup. He shimmied the sleeve up the cup to protect his hand from the heat, and looked to Triss. “See you tomorrow,” 

“Cool beans. See you later,”

Jaskier picked up his bag and the cup and carried both out of the shop. The day was half done, a little after lunch, so the streets were relatively empty compared to morning and evening and lunch time, so Jaskier thought to take his time. In the distance, he noted some storm clouds crawling in again, though. Odd that it keeps raining so frequently. Had it rained this much last year? He’d need to hurry, the clouds seemed to be picking up speed. 

He paced to the crosswalk and pressed the button with his elbow. Despite wanting to cross now, especially since there was no traffic so far as he could see, he patiently waited with the memory in the back of his head of the day he was nearly run over. Best not chance it, storm clouds threatening to downpour on him or not. 

A beep chimed out from the crosswalk sign and Jaskier stepped confidently out into the street. The aroma of the black coffee began to waft up to his nose, tickling it and making it crinkle up in distaste. How could Geralt enjoy such a nasty beverage? Hopefully he’d be able to persuade Geralt into more flavorful and delectable beverages in the near future.

Soon, Jaskier was at the office building, pulling the door open and stepping into the crisp clean lobby. The sound of the burbling indoor waterfall and pond met his ears, along with the scent of citrus cleaner washing over him and the sight of an empty lobby before him with no one at the desk. Odd. Where was Yennefer?

Jaskier slowly padded across the lobby, taking a few moments to linger near the pond and watch the large bodies of the koi fish gliding beneath the surface of the water, the dark tile floor of the pond both contrasting to make the koi’s coloration appear more brilliant and adding to the mysterious vibe the whole lobby was giving off. He’d glance to the desk a few times, thinking perhaps Yennefer had gone to the restroom and was about to return at any moment, but it remained empty. Seeing that she still wasn’t back, Jaskier frowned. He was starting to feel awkward loitering in the lobby. 

Jaskier moved toward the desk and thought to pick up the phone to try to call Geralt’s office but he realized he had no idea how to work the phones here so he abandoned that idea quickly. Well, he could always continue to wait. But then Geralt’s coffee would get cold and while he didn’t really know Geralt that well, he didn’t think he’d like cold coffee. No one did, except for those who order it specifically that way. Perhaps Geralt’s told his security team about Jaskier and they’d let him up this time? Worth a shot. 

“Afternoon, gents. My name is Jaskier, I’m a good friend of Geralt’s, and I’ve got this coffee made special for him. It’s still hot and quite delightful, well delightful being a relative term really, but I’m sure Geralt would find it so, so it’s delightful for him-- Anyways, I’ve got this hot and delightful coffee for him so if you don’t mind, I’d like to deliver--”

“No,” one stuck his hand out and shook his head. The other shook his head as well, “No security pass, no entrance.”

“Well, see, that’s where I’d hoped you’d be wrong, that Geralt would have given me a pass and you’d let me up. After all, we are sort of kind of--”

“Do you have a pass?”

“Erm, pardon? A pass? I mean, Geralt knows me and--”

“A physical pass. A key card. This?” The second guard lifted what looked like a credit card with his photo and name on it, turned it and there was a barcode on the back. 

“Oh um. No. No, I haven’t got one of those,” Jaskier deflated. 

“Then no entrance. Please wait in the lobby,” the first guard pointed at the chairs beside the koi pond. 

“See, I would, but the coffee is going to get cold and--”

“Wait in the lobby or leave the premises.”

“Er… right. I’ll just wait over here then.”

Just as Jaskier was turning to step back to the chairs, he heard the ding of the elevator and saw Geralt and Yennefer stepping out together. Her arm was hooked around his and they were leaned close together, murmuring to each other in a shared private conversation. The sight alone was enough to make Jaskier’s heart sink, but what was really the nail in the coffin was the way Yennefer rocked up on her toes to peck a kiss on Geralt’s cheek. Jaskier’s mouth went dry, his throat clenched shut, and his hand gripped the coffee cup so hard the lid popped off. 

The lid clattered to the ground and Geralt’s eyes snapped over, locking with Jaskier’s. There was surprise in them, confusion. 

“‘Just your receptionist’, yeah? Right.” Jaskier spoke, his tone a little too sarcastic as he turned and set the cup of still hot but not that hot coffee firmly onto Yennefer’s desk. He looked to her and saw her expression had turned from a casual relaxed look to one of intense irritation and, what Jaskier assumed was, hatred. She glared up at Geralt, whispered angrily at him with a finger jabbed in Jaskier’s direction, and stormed off in the opposite direction back to the elevators where she boarded the elevator car and disappeared. 

“Best be after her, wouldn’t want your girlfriend thinking anything bad about you and I,” Jaskier turned heel and, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets, and started on through the lobby toward the doors. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt called after him, but Jaskier continued on. He needed a breath of air and apparently needed to rethink everything. The air was turning bitterly cold as the storm rolled in, darkening the sky and threatening to downpour on him. He rather wishes he had his bomber jacket; this thin polo wouldn’t protect him that well from a rainshower. Hell, he might just have to start running to the sub station. 

“Jaskier!” Geralt’s voice was closer to Jaskier than he expected. Glancing to the side, Jaskier saw Geralt gaining on him rapidly, though he made it look effortless. 

“What do you want, Geralt? Aren’t you going to go smooth things over with Jennifer?”

“Yennefer, and no, she can get over the stick up her ass on her own,” Geralt caught up and kept pace. Jaskier just rolled his eyes. 

“Stealing my quotes now, how original.”

“It was a rather interesting, if not eloquent, way to describe someone’s attitude, I’ll admit,” Geralt chuckled. Hearing that made Jaskier smile. But just a little smile; he was still upset. 

Fat raindrops plopped down onto Jaskier’s head and shoulders and he scoffed. 

“Great. Just what we need.”  
The sound of shuffling fabric beside him was followed by a sudden cessation of the rain. Jaskier looked up. Geralt was holding the trench over Jaskier, shielding him from the rain. 

“Let me drive you home,” Geralt offered but Jaskier moved to push the trench away. 

“I’m fine walking to the subway on my own,”

“Jaskier,”

“What, Geralt?” Jaskier’s words were snappier than he meant. Or maybe he did mean it. “You insist that Yennefer is just your receptionist and yet she behaves like a jealous girlfriend anytime she sees me. She kisses you and clings to you like a lover, you can’t even deny it because I saw it with my own eyes just now. You treat me so softly and sweetly when you’re around me on our own but act so cold and distant like you can’t get away from me fast enough when we’re around others. At the restaurant, you hardly spoke to me, it was like you were humoring me but couldn’t bear to be seen with me. And back at the shop, when you saved me from the electricity, you were so tender and gentle, but then the moment Triss came along, you tried to rush off. Hell, we had to practically bully you into another date. 

“Geralt, are you cheating on her with me? Because I refuse to be the side-chick, I’ve had that happen to myself before and I will not do that to someone else. It’s not fair to her. Really, if you are, you’re doing a terrible job at it. And honestly, I believed you better than that. After all, how could someone so compassionate to save someone's life not once, not twice, but numerous times, be the type to be an adulterer? How could someone be so sweet and romantic, tender, and kind, and turn around to betray the trust of their significant other? Here I thought--”

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupted, draping the trench around Jaskier’s shoulders. It was heavy and warm, and the smell that wafted up almost knocked Jaskier off his feet. It smelled like the warmth that heated his cheeks and tingled his fingers and toes when he would sit in front of a crackling campfire, a comforting and soothing sensation that threatened to lull him into a deep refreshing sleep with crickets chirping in the distance. Like a nice fresh stout, creamy and hearty, with the hints of a chocolatey coffee flavor ready to relax tense muscles and bring a sweet grin when the foam of the head of the stout tickled the soft lip skin. Overall it gave him the feeling of being wrapped in a thick flannel blanket in front of a blaze crackling in a fireplace with a fresh hot cocoa nearby on an autumn night with a gentle mild breeze and a storm on the horizon. The scent was home to Jaskier. Not his studio, not his ex’s flat, not his parents mansion. None of those were home. No, this, right here, wrapped in Geralt’s scent while looking into those golden eyes, that was home. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt gently nudged him and Jaskier blinked rapidly, coming back down to earth. 

“What?”

“I said, I will explain everything if you let me drive you home. May I?”

“O-oh,” Jaskier was still stunned by the scent and warmth of the trench, “Um. Alright.”

Geralt’s smile didn’t help Jaskier’s muddled mind as he turned him around and guided him quickly through the now rapidly falling rain to the parking garage where he helped Jaskier into the sleek sports car. Both fell silent as Geralt drove through the absolute downpour, navigating the traffic with ease. After a moment, Jaskier realized they were heading a little too far east. 

“Geralt? Home’s that way,” He gestured to the west. 

“I know.”

“Ah. So you _are_ kidnapping me to dismember me and sell my parts,” Jaskier’s natural state of defaulting to humor came through, though it was half hearted and still bitter given he was still in such a foul mood.

Geralt chuckled softly, the blinker clicking rhythmically under his voice. 

“No. That’s not until later. I just have to stop off at home for my hack saw first. Can’t dismember you without the right equipment.”

Okay, bad mood or not, that got a hearty laugh from Jaskier. 

“Really, though, I do need to stop home for a moment. I live just a couple more blocks this way,” Geralt turned down a road and began cruising up the side of the hill, winding carefully but quickly around the corners. “Then, I will take you home.”

“You said you were going to explain everything to me, too.”

“Yes. I will explain everything. I promise.”

Jaskier shifted in his seat, looking to Geralt with expectant eyes. Geralt, however, fell silent and focused on his driving. The car slowed soon and Jaskier looked around at the neighborhood. Most of the houses were distantly spaced from each other, separated by wide yards and crisp hedges, occasionally by tall metal gates. They were tall imposing looking houses, modern and brand new. It was obviously a higher class neighborhood, the type Jaskier could see his parents living in. 

“Fancy digs. Not surprising though. Can’t exactly see the CEO of a big bad insurance company living in squalor, you know?”

Geralt chuckled, rolling his eyes. He pulled into the drive and cruised up the curved driveway toward the walkway that led to the front door. There, he parked and stepped out. Jaskier sighed, shifted in his seat, and fiddled with his fingers in his lap. A soft tapping on his window startled him. 

“You coming?” Geralt’s voice was muffled from behind the glass. 

Frowning, Jaskier looked around Geralt at the house. Then, he unbuckled himself and stepped out. 

“Really?”

“Yes. Walk with me,” Geralt gestured, leading the way up the path, up the few stairs, and to the front door. There, he unlocked the door and let Jaskier in. 

Stepping into the foyer, Jaskier looked up and around. It was a circular vestibule, with two white staircases with black trim lining the white walls on either side leading up and meeting at the balcony that overlooked the foyer. A hexagonal light fixture hung between the two staircases, illuminating the room with a soft warm glow. Against one the base of one staircase was a small soft bench with light grey cushions, a coat rack, and a shoe stand. On the other side, against the base of the second set of stairs, was a large planter that housed a verdant green fern with leaves that stood proudly up in the air or draped gracefully to touch the black wood of the floor. There was a black and white rug exactly centered in the middle of the foyer with an odd geometric pattern that, if he stared at it for too long, started to give Jaskier a headache. 

Just through the archway the stairs created, Jaskier could see a long dining table with elegant, almost ancient looking, wooden dining chairs. Beyond that was a long bay of windows looking out toward Geralt’s backyard, though Jaskier couldn’t quite see details given the sheer curtains that hung in front of the windows paired with the heavy downpour of rain. Jaskier could see a doorway that led to what looked to be a crisp white and stainless steel kitchen on one side and a hallway to the other side that he assumed led to other rooms. 

Turning his gaze upward, he saw the balcony to the second level seemed to surround the atrium up to the outer wall, lined with black trimmed railing. As he turned his head he noticed Geralt watching him with cautious eyes, so he scoffed. 

“Oh, come now, Geralt, and here I was expecting something more fancy from such a well-off CEO. I’m a little disappointed. Don’t know if I can keep pursuing such a middle class man,” Jaskier said teasingly. Rolling his eyes and barely concealing his smirk of amusement, Geralt took the trench from Jaskier (to his dismay) and hung it on the coat rack. Then, he sat on the bench, took his shoes off one by one, and rested them on the shoe stand, before gesturing for Jaskier to do the same. 

“Hm. Didn’t take you for one to be so neat and tidy,” Jaskier commented as he sat and untied his high tops. Geralt only shrugged in reply. Out of nowhere, the high faint jingling of a bell met Jaskier’s ears and a dark brown blur rounded the corner and hopped into Geralt’s lap. Jaskier gasped. 

“Heya, Roach,” Geralt cooed, massaging the cheeks of the cat in small circles as it meowed at him. 

“You’ve a cat!” 

“Yes. She’s a Havana Brown. Is that okay? You’re not allergic, are you?”

“Yes, I’m allergic. Allergic to being in the same room as a cat and not loving it,” Jaskier replied, reaching to pet the cat too. She absolutely adored it, stepping over Geralt into Jaskier’s lap and stretching her front paws up his chest onto his shoulders. Her eyes lazily closed and her rumbling purrs were more than audible to both men. 

“D’awwh! Who’s a good little kitty? So sweet and kind, I love you already! But you already knew that, didn’tchu, you snuggly-wuggly wumpykittykins. What a widdle pudders,” Jaskier devolved into nonsensical gibberish as he loved up on the cat. 

Geralt cleared his throat and Jaskier shot upright, looking to Geralt with pinkening cheeks. 

“You didn’t hear that,” 

“If you insist,” Geralt laughed, picking Roach up (here she let out a protesting meow) and setting her on the ground again. 

“Feel free to give yourself the tour. I’ll only be a moment,” Geralt gestured to the house and then disappeared around the corner into the hallway. Roach let out a soft _Mrrrp?_ before she started rubbing her body against his legs, curling her tail around his calf when she reached the end before turning around to rub again in the other direction. 

Jaskier chuckled, bent over to run his hand down her back, and then started walking about the home. 

It was every bit as modern and rich as he expected, but surprisingly impersonal. Aside from a couple of planters with more foliage dotting the hall and the occasional abstract painting (mostly with black, white, and grey coloring), there was nothing to say that an actual human lived here. No signs of interests or hobbies, no family photos or any sort of memorabilia. Not even a messy room, Jaskier noted as he peeked his head into doorways. No clothes laying about or full trash cans. It was almost as if no one actually lived here and the house was merely for show. 

He’d happened upon a home gym, with brand new looking equipment spot-free and neatly organized. He’d happened upon a half bathroom with neat hand towels and a nondescript soap dispenser on the sink in front of the mirror that had no fingerprints or signs of water splashes. There was a guest room that looked utterly unused, with its black sheets, pillows, and comforter neatly made like a hotel bed, a grey painted nightstand and simple lamp. 

At the end of the hallway was an office where Geralt stood at the desk shuffling through papers. It, too, was plain and impersonal. The desk was a dark brown, almost black. There were shelves along the walls with books that looked like they’d never been touched. A sleek monitor, a wireless mouse and keyboard, rested on the desk without the actual tower anywhere in sight. Geralt glanced up at Jaskier, offered a soft smile as Jaskier waved, before looking back down at his papers again. 

Jaskier left the hall and padded through the dining room area into the kitchen where he immediately felt out of his element. Each appliance looked professional grade, made of shining stainless steel, with marble countertops. It, like the other rooms, looked untouched and unused. Either Geralt didn’t actually ‘live’ here, or he had one helluva maid service. 

Jaskier peeked through the door at the other end of the kitchen and found the entrance to the garage, where a washer and dryer sat against the wall. The garage had nothing else in it but a tall tool cabinet and workstation that was immaculate. Part of him wondered, did Geralt work on cars then? Or was this the epicenter of a different hobby? Carpentry maybe? He’d have to ask.

Closing the door, Jaskier retreated back out of the kitchen and moved up the stairs, stepping carefully as his socks were slipping on the polished wood. As soon as he reached the top, he turned down the hallway and found what looked to be the master bedroom. It closely resembled the guest room downstairs, save for the fact that the bed was much larger, there was a massive flat screen TV, and a large door opened to a massive master bathroom. It felt intrusive to try to go in, but Jaskier reasoned that Geralt gave him permission, so he waltzed into the room and peered into the master bathroom. Dead center was a massive tub resembling a jacuzzi, and above it was a square shower head. That tub was large enough for more than one person, Jaskier thought to himself, it would make for quite the fun night. The toilet and vanity were tucked discreetly in the corner. 

Letting out a low whistle, Jaskier stepped out of the bathroom and back into the hall. There were two more guest rooms, a storage room with neatly stacked tupperware boxes lining the walls without labels, a full bathroom with a stand alone shower, and a mysterious room that was locked. Jaskier rattled the doorknob a couple times but it didn’t give. With a shrug, he turned and headed back down the hall toward one of the staircases. He’d started making his way down slowly, turning to look back up at the hall; his curiosity was starting to overtake him. Part of him wondered if he maybe wasn’t trying hard enough and that the door was jammed. Or maybe it was one of those cases where you had to pull on the door to get it to unlatch. Maybe he’d try again. He’d turned fully and moved to step back up the stairs. 

Roach appeared like magic on the banister beside him, with no warning that she was even there, and she meowed loudly at him, startling him. He jerked backwards, his foot slipped out from under him, and with surprised yelp, he was flying down the stairs. His shoulder hit a stair, and he was prepared to endure more as he fell when he hit a solid form and they both tumbled before slamming into the wall at the base of the stair with a grunt. 

Jaskier groaned and tried to right himself but found himself secured in a tight cage of arms. 

“Jas… Jaskier, are you okay?” Geralt asked, his voice strained. 

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m fine. But are you?” Jaskier twisted, rubbing his shoulder. Pressed so firmly against Geralt, Jaskier got a chance to notice just how muscular and strong he was. For a CEO of a business, Geralt felt _cut_. Jaskier could feel firm muscles moving underneath him, contracting and straining to hold Jaskier securely in place. That explains how he was able to snatch Jaskier out of the jaws of death numerous times. Probably it was that home gym that looked unused. As much as he wanted to find out more, he moved to pull away but Geralt tightened his grip as he spoke.

“I’m fine.”

Jaskier lifted his head to look up at Geralt whose face was at first contorted with pain and worry but then morphed into laughter as Jaskier started giggling. 

“Suppose I don’t listen all that well, do I?” Jaskier shook his head.

“Apparently not.”

“Lucky I have you around to keep sweeping in to save me.” 

Geralt chuckled and shook his head as well, but then his eyes softened and his hand caressed over Jaskier’s cheek. 

“And I always will.”

Jaskier’s heart stammered in his chest and began to race. 

“That a promise?” Jaskier breathed out, glancing down at Geralt’s lips. 

“I swear.” 

Geralt’s fingers hooked around the back of Jaskier’s head and drew him in enough for their lips to finally touch and Jaskier thought his heart was going to explode. 

Geralt’s lips, surprisingly soft and so very warm against Jaskier’s, moved cautiously and slowly. It was a tender kiss and it made Jaskier’s head swim and spin with how sweet it was. His fantasies could never compare to the way Geralt’s lips moved languidly against Jaskier’s. His fingers tingled, his toes tingled, and his lips felt like they were on fire. He had to pull away for a breath of air when he realized he was growing way too dizzy and hadn’t breathed since Geralt moved in. 

Jaskier took a deep breath and looked up at Geralt whose eyes were utterly vulnerable. 

“We shouldn’t, Geralt. Yennefer wouldn’t like--”

“Yennefer is a non-issue,” Geralt hummed, tracing circular patterns on Jaskier’s cheek. 

“You’re not dating or married to her?”

“No,” Geralt gave a humored frown and head shake, “My eyes are only for you.”

Blushing deeper, Jaskier glanced at Geralt’s lips and took a sharp breath. 

“Sort of cheesy,” 

“But true, Jaskier.”

“Well, then in that case, maybe… Maybe, do that again, yeah?” Jaskier whispered, his fingers tangled and clutching to the button up shirt that was skewed on Geralt’s shoulders. Geralt responded with a low rumbling laugh and moved in again, this time kissing Jaskier more confidently than before. Their lips moved in sync as if they were made for each other. Jaskier noticed how the kiss seemed to zing, like a zip of electricity that sparked between the two. Heart pounding, Jaskier leaned heavily against Geralt, smoothing his fingertips up the short buzzed hair of Geralt’s undercut before tangling in the longer hair tied up against his skull. He parted his lips to try to press his tongue into Geralt’s mouth when Geralt pulled back. 

“What--”

“We should slow down for now,” Geralt whispered, brushing a thumb over his bottom lip before smiling softly down at Jaskier when he pouted. “We have all the time in the world for this later.”

He then helped Jaskier to his feet and started straightening out his shirt. Jaskier straightened his polo out and ruffled a hand through his own hair as Geralt put a small distance between them. There were so many things that Jaskier wanted to say, wanted to ask about, wanted to do, but Jaskier stayed silent while Geralt took down his hair, ran his fingers through it, and then tied it back up once more. Cheeks pinkening, Jaskier adjusted his jeans. He was half-hard, making the denim a little uncomfortable for his tastes. 

“You were right. You do shut up when your lips are otherwise occupied,” Geralt commented, smoothing a thumb over Jaskier’s cheek with an amused expression. Rolling his eyes Jaskier, smirked. 

“I’d told you, hadn’t I? Rather disappointed in how long it took you to find out, though. That’s all on you, Geralt.”

Geralt chuckled and moved to sit on the bench, grabbing his shoes and slipping them on before lacing them up again. Jaskier sat beside him and did the same, leaving his hightops more loosely tied than before. No point in securing them if he was going home after this. As soon as they were both done, Geralt took Jaskier’s hand and squeezed it. He didn’t let go as he led Jaskier out the door and toward the car, only releasing his hold as Jaskier got into the car. There, when they both were seated, Geralt took his hand once more. 

“So um. You said you were going to explain things. From before,” Jaskier said, realizing as Geralt activated the windshield wipers that it was in fact not raining anymore. 

“Mmmh.”

“About you. And Yennefer. And all… that,” Jaskier made a circular motion with his hand before looking at him expectantly.

“Yes,”

Silence ensued for a few moments, Jaskier leaning forward and gazing at Geralt, but he continued just staring out the window.

“And?”

Geralt took a long breath, pulling the car down the drive and onto the road. 

“Yennefer is a close friend of mine. I’ve known her for… more years than I care to count, now. What you saw was us coming back from a late lunch, laughing and sharing an inside joke about our superior. The years we’ve known each other, we’ve adopted little signs of affection that are entirely innocent. A hug, a cheek kiss, things like that. Our relationship is nothing more than just that - close friends who share jokes and laugh together.” 

The way Geralt spoke was slow, like he was choosing his words carefully. Something about it made Jaskier suspicious. 

“Then why does she act so much like a jealous lover? Everytime she sees me, its always this vicious expression. This nasty glare with her harsh eyes - those strange colored contacts don’t really help. I mean, they aren’t that disturbing, they’re rather lovely truth be told, but that’s beside the point. What does she have against me, Geralt, why does she hate me so much?”

A muscle flexes in Geralt’s jaw and Jaskier catches a glance from the side of Geralt’s eyes that… Is that fear? Is that worry? 

“She doesn’t hate you, Jaskier. She’s worried for me. She thinks that you being around is impairing my ability to do my job, and is worried that if I don’t focus on my work instead of you, that I’ll put things in jeopardy with our superior,” Geralt turned his head slightly, squeezing Jaskier’s hand. “Her worries are unwarranted though. Being near you just gives me more incentive,”

Twisting his lips, Jaskier looked down at their hands. 

“You keep saying, superior. But you’re the CEO. Isn’t that as superior as you can get?”

“Yes and no. I’m above the whole company but there is the... Chairman over me. She worries that me being with you will upset the Chairman. He wouldn’t like… Me being _with_ you.”

“Ohhh… So Triss was right then. You’re not cheating, you’re just closeted,” Jaskier shifted in his seat, adjusting his seatbelt so he could more easily face Geralt. 

The look of confusion on Geralt’s face turned to a neutral expression as he stared out the windshield with a hard hum. Light from the setting sun broke through the storm clouds and made Geralt’s eyes almost appear to glow as he turned down the street to head west toward Jaskier’s apartment complex. The sight was enough to render Jaskier breathless. How could a man be so beautiful?

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier murmured, “I should know better, should have realized that that’s a bit of a touchy subject and--”

“Hmm.”

“In regards to you and I, is that… Okay?”

“Let’s just say that our relationship complicates things at work.”

Jaskier deflated, his hand going limp in Geralts, and his hope fading. 

“That doesn’t mean I’m letting this go, Jaskier,” Geralt responded to Jaskier’s change in mood by squeezing his hand tighter, pulling it up even to kiss his knuckles like before. Though it sent his heart fluttering again, Jaskier kept trying to pull away. 

“I can’t jeopardize your job like this. It isn’t fair,”

“You’re not jeopardizing anything. Besides, there’s no going back now. It’s too late for that.”

Geralt turned and gazed at Jaskier with intense eyes that sent shivers down Jaskier’s spine, that made his breath catch and his heart tremble, made his skin tingle and made his brain entirely fritz out. 

“S-so is that it then? … Are we together then, officially? Boyfriends?”

“Something like that, I suppose. Officially,” Geralt mused, giving another kiss to Jaskier's hand and returning his gaze to the road. 

Hearing Geralt say that just made Jaskier feel like he was flying in the sky, higher than the office buildings of downtown, higher than the storm clouds that still hung above but refrained from raining, higher than anything he could really think of past the clouds which wasn’t much because he was too focused on the fact that Geralt just said they were boyfriends! 

The car slowed beneath the two and Jaskier suddenly didn’t want this moment together to end. It was all too perfect, how could it end now? He started thinking of things to delay the inevitable, to keep himself sitting there and keep Geralt from leaving, when the car stopped on the curb and Geralt took Jaskier’s hand tightly. The car was parked and the engine idled softly in front of the apartment complex. 

“Still on for the Arcade?” Geralt asked, turning to look at Jaskier with a glimmer in his eyes that wasn’t there before all this. 

“Oh, you bet your delicious lips, we are,” Jaskier nodded enthusiastically. Jaskier was absolutely falling for the way that Geralt would roll his eyes and chuckle softly, a low rumbling sound in the depths of his chest. 

“I’ll be here at seven, sharp. And… Be safe, Jaskier,” Geralt spoke the last words softly, leaning closer as Jaskier moved to open the door and step out. 

“For you, anything,” Jaskier said with a smirk as he closed the distance and kissed Geralt sweetly. Once. Twice. And one last quick one for the road. 

Humming happily, he stood out of the car and closed the door, turning to wave Geralt off as he drove away. It was getting close to dinner time, and Jaskier suddenly felt famish. What a day, he thought as he went up to his studio and, fixing himself a small meal, he worked on his school work with Geralt’s lips on his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kiss kiss kiss kiss KISS KISS KISS KISS AAHHHHHHHHH
> 
> hoo boy my dudes, thanks for still sticking around! this one was so far my favorite to write. might have gotten carried away but really, thats all this fic is, me getting carried away. At this point, I'm throwing out the posting schedule, so buckle in folks. 
> 
> come chat with me @mysalyss on tumblr or @mysalyssart on twitter


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws this at ya'll, screaming as i run by*

“Triss, quiet!! People are staring and as much as I like attention, this is getting weird!” Jaskier hissed at her, gesturing with his hands to try to get her to settle down. 

“Tell me everything again! I want every single detail!” Triss squealed. 

“I literally just did, twice mind you, what more do you want from me?”

“You’re telling me he really caught you as you fell?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure that  _ he’s  _ the one who initiated the kiss?”

“Yes, Triss, I said--”

“And  _ he’s  _ the one who said it’s official?”

“Is that not what I said? Honestly, it’s like I’m a broken record over here repeating everything over and over.”

“Ohhhhh, it’s all just so romantic and dreamy! And after all that sour-puss attitude he was giving the other day. We should celebrate! Jaskier and Geralt, together at last! Drinks on me? Drinks on me,” she declared, sighed dreamily as her eyes went distant, “Ahhhh… to be in your shoes! A tall handsome and sculpted man to sweep you off your feet!”

Jaskier laughed and blushed, shaking his head and wiping the counter down before stocking up again on the cups. 

“You need to get out more.”

“You’re telling me,” Triss snarked, poking her head around the corner and grabbing a broom before sweeping next to Jaskier. “That’s why I said! Drinks tonight! On me.”

“Cuz, you know, I don’t have a class or anything tonight--”

“Nope, you don’t, you have drinks with your best friend to celebrate your new little boy-toy.”

With the roll of his eyes and a laugh, he and Triss continued their shift out and closed shop. The two counted and divvied the tips, leaving the shares for the other employees divided in an envelope that Triss put into the safe. It hadn’t been a great day for tips but Jaskier wasn’t too worried. Though Triss said she was paying, he knew he had enough in tip cash from work and from playing every day in the park and subway that he would be able to contribute tonight, too. 

“Ready?” Triss offered an elbow after flicking the lights off. Hefting his backpack over his shoulder, Jaskier took her arm and she squeezed him tight.

“To go party? Always,” Jaskier pushed the door open for her and the two were on their way toward her car.

As she drove them around, looking for just the right club (because not any plain club would do, it had to be just perfect for this night), Triss rolled the windows down and let the wind whip her blazing red hair around while she and Jaskier sang loudly along with the stereo that blared Spice Girls and Backstreet Boys. In the distance the sun was setting, its light creating brilliant and beautiful colors as it danced off the windows of the office buildings and apartment complexes of the downtown city. Jaskier was putting his all into his own rendition of Baby One More Time, watching Triss laugh heartily as she turned onto the on-ramp of the highway that passed by downtown to circle around again. 

Tires squealed beside her and she jerked the wheel, managing to avoid the car that was merging into her lane without looking. 

“Oi, shit-for-brains! Watch where you’re goin! Nearly killed us, mate!” Jaskier hung his head out the window, barely hearing Triss laughing harder as wind whipped around his head. “Fuckin’ prick, that’s all they were.”  
“Chill out, Jasky! It’s no biggie,” Triss tried to soothe him as she turned the music down. 

“It really is though! People driving around like--”

“Jaskier! Really. It’s all good. We’re celebrating, remember? Take a chill-pill and let the sweet vocals of mister Timberlake wash over you!” She cranked the music up again, patted Jaskier on the thigh, and signaled to change lanes as she was pulling off the highway to start at the farthest end of downtown once more. For a few moments, as the nineties boy band whined on through the speakers (and Triss replied with her own warbling vocals), Jaskier felt nauseated and though he couldn’t really figure out why, he suddenly felt wrong. Uncomfortable. A pulsing in his head made him ill and just when he thought he was going to be sick, Triss pulled into a parking lot and cut the engine. 

“XYXX it is,” she said when the music abruptly stopped. The windows were rolled up and the car was making metallic clanking sounds as it cooled down while Triss leaned into the backseat to grab her bag. “Why didn’t you make me change at the store? Really, Jasky, it’s like you wanted me to show up in my Coff-Whee uniform.”

He let out a half forced chuckle, turning to give her a little privacy as she quickly shimmied out of her polo and slacks to put on a tight knee length skirt and an off the shoulder top. Then, she popped open a smaller bag and went to work on her makeup. 

“Everything okay? You’ve not been this quiet in forever. What’s eatin you?” She commented as she lined her lips with gloss. 

“Dunno, just suddenly felt ill and maybe thinkin’ this might not be the best idea. Maybe best I go home”

Triss stopped mid sweep with the gloss brush and looked at Jaskier.

“You, thinking drinking and partying with me is a bad idea? Shit, you  _ are _ sick!” she dramatically put her hand on his and gave him an exaggerated concerned expression.

“Shut up, Triss,” Jaskier laughed, shaking his head. 

“Here, you could use some gloss too. Your lips are a little pale. Well,  _ you’re _ a little pale too, but I don’t have your color so we’re just going to have to make do. Besides. We’re not here to snag you a snacc, we’re here to celebrate you snagging a snacc.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and swallowed hard. There was a lump in his throat that he pushed away as he leaned in and let her dab the gooey gloss onto his lips with a smile. 

“You’ll feel better after a couple Vegas bombs, a good dance, and some gossiping. Promise. Now, come on. Let’s go party.”

“Oh, I suppose. Alright.”

Jaskier couldn’t help but smile as they entered the club and Triss pushed her way through the crowd to the bar where she got them both two shots each and downed them like a pro. She slapped her card down to start the tab and passed Jaskier his shots, gazing expectantly at him. He followed suit, knocking the shots back and tossing the plastic shot glasses then took her hand to follow her to the dance floor where it took about three songs of Triss dancing, shimmying with Jaskier’s hands back and forth, and singing badly over the music before Jaskier really started to enjoy himself. 

The dance floor populated quickly, and soon Jaskier was lost in the fun of the night. They laughed, Triss flirted with anyone who passed her by and shooed off those trying to flirt with him, and as they drank more and more, Jaskier forgot any problem he may have had before and was blissfully unaware of how long they’d even been there. 

Finding a table, they both nursed new cocktails as they cooled down from the dance marathon they just endured. 

“So. You two fuck yet?” Triss folded her hands over the glass and Jaskier half choked on his drink. 

“Triss!” 

“What?? I don’t get any, clearly. Come on, indulge me! Gimme the deets!”

Jaskier was blushing heavily as he imagined Geralt’s body on top of his, imagined those muscles flexing while Geralt worked him over. His jeans suddenly felt way too tight and he shifted uncomfortably, shaking his head. 

“We only kissed, Triss. Trust me. If we fucked, you’d know. You’d be the first I’d tell. Well, really, the only I’d tell. I’ve only got you, really.”

“Aww! You need more friends,” she flopped her hands onto her lap.

Jaskier laughed at her, taking her hand, and scooting to give her a side hug. 

“You alone are good enough for me.”

The throbbing lights of the club made it hard to make out her expression but he saw a bittersweet smile. 

“I love ya, Jasky,”

“And you know I love you too, Triss,” giggling, he finished his drink in one gulp. They then moved to the dance floor and started dancing again. By closing time, they were cackling madly with each other and stumbling out of the club with their arms interlocked together. 

“You good to drive or should--”

“Uber. I got it, babycakes,” Triss snickered, pulling her phone out and watching it tumble to the ground. 

“Oh, shit!”

“Whoops,” she picked the phone back up and ordered their ride to her house, her thumbs stumbling over the too-bright screen. Then, they both hopped up onto her trunk and leaned against each other. 

“I shoulda got his number, don’t you think?” Triss whined, grabbing Jaskier’s hand and shaking it. 

“I told you. Told you, go get his number, and have a good fuck later. But nooooo, you never listen to me. Why listen to Jaskier? It’s not like Jaskier knows what's best or anythin’,” he replied, being a little over dramatic. It made Triss snort out loud. 

“Coulda ended up like you and Dreamy Dream man. Need me a big man like that to just sweep me up off my feet.”

“Coulda been. But, eh. It’ll happen when it’ll happen, ya know?”

“Yeah, eventually, maybe. But like, can’t it happen faster? Maybe the trick is to jump in front of a train like you did,” she teased but Jaskier bristled at that, his goofy smile and fun mood fading quickly. “Sorry. Shouldn’t have said--”

“Nah, you’re good. It’s okay. Just…” he slid off the trunk and paced to the side for a moment before turning to look at her.

Right then, their Uber pulled up and they paused the conversation to get in and ride back to Triss’ apartment in the suburbs of the city. She lived in a ten story tall complex that thankfully had a functional elevator which was more than Jaskier could say for his own complex, really, he should write the landlord and tell him off for not taking care of his own building. The two stumbled into it before they rode up to her apartment on the eighth floor. There, Jaskier wandered around the small unit as Triss grabbed them some beers to keep their high of intoxication on. Both of them moved to the balcony where they flopped into the chairs sitting next to the railing. 

“So. About back there,” Triss said, smacking her lips after she took a long draw from the beer bottle. “I didn’t mean to like… upset you about the whole train thing. Stupid joke, really. I would never--”

“No no, Triss. I’m not angry or nothin’. Just. Really, it kinda feels odd to think of, you know? Had I not been pushed, had I not nearly died, I’d never have met Geralt and he and I wouldn’t be like this. I wouldn’t’a gotten a job at Coff-Whee, I never woulda met you, and I never woulda been down the path to like… kiss him, you know?”

“Kinda romantic. Really romantic, really,” She chuckled and cradled her bottle, sighing and looking at the night sky. It was well past three in the morning but neither of them really wanted to go to bed yet. 

“Feels like fate, dunnit?” 

“I don’t much know about that, Triss. Just a drop of luck, really. Geralt happened to be there, and he happened to be at the others and--”

“Riiiiiiight. Cuz there’s not anythin weird on about that. After everything you’ve told me, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a deeper explanation there. Feels like you two were just…  _ Meant _ to find each other. Kismet, I think. Soulmates!... Either way, I’m gonna get a couple shots, want any?”

“Why the fuck not?”

Triss stood up and paced inside as Jaskier turned his head. Once or twice was a coincidence, he’d admit, but things just seemed to pair together a little too well and with Triss commenting on it, Jaskier started to wonder himself too. He really didn’t know. By this point his brain was now swimming in the booze, making his head full of alcohol-soup, so he couldn’t process things clearly. 

Standing up, he staggered to the railing intending to lean dramatically against it and contemplate things as the wind carded through his hair and cooled his skin. Just as his hands were about to meet with the rail, his phone started ringing loudly on the chair he’d left it on, startling him backwards. 

He swung around clumsily and blinked, looking at the screen. The two screens. The one screen. Was there one or two phones? Beneath his feet, the ground shifted again and Jaskier exhaled forcefully as he fell face first onto the balcony ground, his vision doubling. Okay. Too much booze; the world was spinning and he swears he saw a figure standing beside him, cursing softly. With… Violet eyes? No. Couldn’t have been. 

“Jaskier!” Triss was there, her hands on his shoulders, and he snorted out an obnoxious laugh. Of course. It was Triss, standing there, he was just seeing things. “You okay? Your nose…” 

Something pressed to his nose and he snorted again, trying to pull away. 

“Helluva fall, you didn’t break it but your nose is bleeding. Someone can't handle their booze,” she sang out, sitting him up and forcing him to hold his head down while she pressed a cloth to his nose. In the background, his phone continued ringing. 

“Myphh--” he swung his hand in the direction of the noise. 

“Jaskier can’t talk right now, who’s this?” He heard her speaking as the phone stopped ringing. Oh, she’d answered it for him. “.... Oh!... Oh, yes, yes, he’s quite fine. Just drunk on my lap. And---OHH!” 

Jaskier hurked and spit up a little of his booze, making Triss shift out from underneath him. 

“Nah, I’ll have him call tomorrow. Promise!... Nope, no, he’s gucci... Yeah, probably for the best. The one off Clifton Ave, eighth floor, last unit on the left… Got it? Okay, later!”

“Excuse--- ‘He’s gucci’? I think-- I’m going to have to dis-friend you,” Jaskier rolled over, unable to see straight. He felt more than heard Triss laugh. 

“You’re the one who taught me that phrase! Shut up. Now c’mon, Jasky. It’s more than bedtime for you,” Triss hefted the now absolutely sloshed Jaskier to his feet and pushed him toward the couch. 

“Who's that?”

“On the phone?”

“Yeh,”

“Your boyfriend. Wanted to make sure you’re still on for tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah! Yeah. We're gonna play games and golf. I love golf. Don’t you love golf? Mini golf. Tiny little golf balls with tiny putters. D’you think Geralt’s got a tiny putter? I think he’s got a massive putter. I’d like to find out. Split me in two with it,”

Triss laughed as he flopped onto the couch, passing out the moment that he hit the fabric. 

  
  
  


It was nearly evening the next day before Jaskier woke up. Like the last time he’d gotten that drunk, he was violently and intensely parched. Really, he was like a mummy. Was that dust that sprayed up when he coughed? 

Sitting up with a groan, he saw Triss sitting on the floor across from him watching TV. 

“Damn. It’s about time! I’d half thought you were dead. Man, you really can’t handle your booze, can you?”

“I’ll beg your pardon, it was more the whole ‘Hey let’s add Redbull to this vodka drink cuz you know that’s a brilliant idea all around, what could go wrong? Caffeine and booze? No big deal!’ thing that I’m adverse to, and what, we had seven of those? Each! Last night. Then you had the gall to tell me that--”

“Chill, babes. No judgement here,” Triss laughed, shifting to stand up. “You did miss a call from your lover though,” 

“Wait, what?”  
“Yeah. He just wanted to check in. Was saying like… something-something he was checking in and wanted to know about your next date tonight. But that’s really it. Oh. Oh man, I hope you’re not too hungover for it, I told him you were on still.”  
“The date! I totally forgot,” Jaskier scrambled off the couch clumsily and fell to the floor before he righted himself, Triss laughing the whole time. 

“Slow your roll. There’s still time. Are you hungry? There’s some mac-n-cheese on the stove, and if you need some water, the fridge dispenses some hella tasty cold --,”

Jaskier sighed heavily, rubbing his head and rushing about the apartment searching for his stuff as Triss watched interestedly. 

“I don’t remember last night. I mean, I remember drinking and some people flirting and---”

“Ohhh… Yeah, Geralt might not like that,”

Jaskier gaped at her, his heart nearly stopping. 

“I… I didn’t, Triss, tell me I didnt!”

She laughed. 

“No, I’m joking, Jaskier. You stayed out of the whole Geralt-might-not-like-his-new-boyfriend-kissing-on-others kind of trouble. Eat! You need some food,” Triss shook her head, gesturing to the kitchen. Jaskier made his way to the stove where a pan held some by-now half dried out macaroni and cheese. He scooped it and ate straight from the service spoon. 

“Oh, good… god, I was worried my stupid drunk self would have---”

“No, you stayed clean. But others thought you quite sexy and fun.”

Jaskier shook his head and continued eating the food straight from the pan. Triss turned the TV down and stood up, grabbing a water glass for Jaskier and helping him finish his meal. His eyes landed on the clock and he swore. 

“The date’s in two hours! I’ll never make it home and--”

“You’re fine. I told him to meet you here. We’ll clean you up, get your belly full, and get you on your way,” Triss stepped forward and brushed his hair from his face. “Geralt’s not going to know what hit him.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Jaskier looked up at her and sighed. 

“What a mess you’ve gotten for a friend,” he laughed softly, but the words were a little self-detrimental. 

“Nah, I got a complexly wonderful ray of sunshine. Now, c’mon. You left some real good clothes here a few nights ago and I have some great smelling soaps. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

A hot shower, a brush and blow out by Triss, a set of changed clothes, and a light layer of flattering eyeliner and lip gloss later and Jaskier was standing in Triss’ living room modeling for her while she, sitting on her couch, was clapping and cheering him on. 

There came a knock on the door and Jaskier jumped. 

“Oh! There he is! Let’s gooo!” Triss hopped off the couch and was at the door in seconds, pulling it open to reveal Geralt standing there with his hands in the pockets of his signature black trench. He didn’t look any different than normal and Jaskier felt a little disappointed that Geralt wouldn’t change his wardrobe for this more laid back sort of date. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt’s voice sounded like a warm blanket wrapping around Jaskier, light and happy and comfortable. Was that a glimmer of excitement in Geralt’s eyes?

“Geralt!”

“Are you ready?” 

“Quite ready, really,” Jaskier nodded, adjusting his shirt and grinning happily at him. Beside the door, Triss was barely containing her excitement with her hands under her chin. He’d barely held back the eye roll as he moved forward toward the door. As he stepped out, Geralt stepping out of the way, Triss gasped. 

“Oh, wait! Your stuff!”

She disappeared into the apartment for a few moments before coming back with a clutch that matched Jaskier’s shirt. 

“Where did you get--”

“Tell you later. Here, stay safe,” she winked meaningfully at Jaskier, “and have fun you two!” 

Blushing heavily, Jaskier started off down the hall with a softly chuckling Geralt following behind him. Once the elevator door slid shut, Jaskier leaned against the hand railing and blew out a raspberry. Silence remained between the two as they headed to Geralt’s car. While they buckled up, Geralt turned the stereo on and, tapping a couple buttons on the panel, started playing music softly in the background before shifting into gear and driving them forward. 

Jaskier wasn’t paying too much attention at first but then perked up. 

“Glenn Miller? Really?” He asked, reaching for the knob to turn it up. “I didn’t take you for a classic swing type!” 

“Mmh,” Geralt hummed a reply. 

“Interestin’, very interestin’,” Jaskier twisted in his seat to examine Geralt’s face. “You know, if you want to update your taste in music, there’s such a thing as electric swing. They take old music like this and put new beats to it and--”

“It’s perfect as it is,” Geralt’s words came out a bit harsh and Jaskier clammed up, looking to Geralt with furrowed brows. Geralt rolled his lips between his teeth and sighed, glancing downward before glancing at Jaskier with a distant look of nostalgia as he started to talk again. 

“I used to listen to Glenn Miller a lot when I was younger. Not just Glenn Miller but, you know, that era of music,” Geralt said vaguely, one of his hands tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel while the other absently fell to take Jaskier’s hand. His tone was softer, kinder. “Sometimes it was the only peace I’d get, listening to Moonlight Serenade or Sing, Sing, Sing. The sound of the needle crackling softly against a vinyl disk, of a long gone band swingin’ along like there wasn't a care in the world, like there wasn’t a second world war looming in the distance.”

His expression became hard to read and he was squeezing Jaskier’s hand a little too tight, but Jaskier didn’t mind. Instead, he stayed silent and let Geralt have his moment. He, of all people, knew how emotional music could make a person and just by how Geralt was behaving, it was clear to Jaskier just how much the music meant to him. Another song came on and Jaskier sat back in his seat to softly sing along. 

“ _ Stars shining bright above you… Night breezes seem to whisper… ‘I love you’... Birds singing in the sycamore trees… dream a little dream of me _ ,” his voice was gentle, not once overwhelming the female singer on the speakers, but complimenting it quite nicely. A muscle twitched in Geralt’s jaw and their speed slowed slightly. 

“ _ Stars fading, but I linger on dear _ ,” he harmonized, glancing at Geralt. “ _ Still craving your kiss _ ,” here Geralt lifted Jaskier’s hand and pressed a firm and long kiss to the back of it, “ _ I’m longing to linger til dawn, dear, _ ” Geralt squeezed Jaskier’s hand and, shaking it a couple times, settled it back on the center console, “ _ Just sayin’ this… _ Geralt, are you alright?”

Geralt’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat and he turned his golden eyes to Jaskier. They looked absolutely haunted, swimming in mysterious memories and emotion, happiness, pain, longing, fear…

“Geralt?--”

“You sing so beautifully, Jaskier,” Geralt smiled, a bittersweet expression, before the car was suddenly pulling in to a parking lot. “We’re here.”

Jaskier blinked rapidly as Geralt parked the car and cut the engine, cutting off the music in the middle of the song, and was out and at Jaskier’s door within seconds. He was still processing what just happened (What did just happen?) as Geralt escorted Jaskier into the arcade and up to the counter where Geralt purchased a bucket of tokens. 

“Right. What first?” He offered it to Jaskier. 

“Woah. A whole bucket? You sure know how to spoil your date, Geralt,” Jaskier grinned like a child, tucking the event in the car into the back of his mind for later, and took the bucket. “Skee-ball! Whoever has the highest score is buying drinks!” 

He heard Geralt laugh behind him as he strutted across the arcade to the long line of skee-ball machines. They picked two toward the end, to not be distracted Jaskier reasoned, and went to town. Jaskier bowled the skee balls up the lane rapidly and chaotically with no regard for any technique or form while Geralt took his time, carefully aiming and sending the skee balls up the lane with precision. Tickets cranked from the machines as the numbers racked up until the last ball came down and was bowled. 

“Right! 1575! Probably set a high score, really, but that’s neither here nor there. Don’t feel too bad, it’s really in the technique--”

“2500. Drinks are on you,” Geralt had torn his line of tickets from the dispenser and passed them to Jaskier whose eyes snapped to Geralt’s machine. 

“W-what? Are you kidding me? Geralt-- How’s that possible, I have never lost a game in my life!” Jaskier stammered in disbelief.

“Hmm,” Geralt patted Jaskier on the shoulder and gestured to the bar. “I think I hear a drink calling my name.”

“Not yet, you don’t. I demand a rematch. Best two out of three,” Jaskier put his fists on his hips and looked rightly offended. An eyebrow raised, Geralt glanced at the skee ball lanes. 

“Fine. But don’t be too upset when I destroy you again.”

“OHHHH OH we are  _ so  _ doing this,” Jaskier pantomimed rolling his sleeves up and grabbed a token, giving Geralt a fierce expression as he started the game. Like the first time, it was chaos. He’d grab a ball and fling it and grab another just the second it left his hands. Surely if he was fast enough, he would finish first and use his spare time to distract Geralt. He didn’t count on Geralt matching his speed. 

“2550? How did you score even better than last time? Geralt, you had to have cheated somehow, there’s literally no way you scored that-- A new high score??” Jaskier’s voice went up an octave to see the lights blinking excitedly on the console and he feigned swooning, flopping dramatically onto the floor. Geralt nudged Jaskier in the side with his toe. 

“Did I break you?” He hummed, squatting down. 

“I need a moment to recover,” Jaskier grunted and whined, flopping an arm over his face. “Such a shame I’ve brought forth to the Pankratz name. What am I anymore if not the greatest skee ball player the world has ever seen? Dare I even go on existing, marring this earthly plane with my sullied name and-- Geralt, where are you going?” 

“To get that drink. Perhaps by the time you’re done with your dramatics I’ll be intoxicated enough to handle you.”

Jaskier scrambled to his feet and dusted his shirt off, grinning mischievously to himself before he hurried after Geralt to the bar. He’d already ordered his drink and gestured to Jaskier who hastily picked some random fruity cocktail off the menu sitting on the bar. 

“So, where’d you learn to skee ball like that? They teach you that at life-insurance-sales-school?”

“Hmm,” Geralt rolled his eyes and took his drink with a nodded thanks from the bartender. 

“Ah! I knew it!”

“What?”

“A stout drinker,” Jaskier took his own drink and pulled from the double straws slowly. Geralt only furrowed his brows. “I just… Sort of took you for the heavier drink type of guy. Coffee, no cream or sugar. Figured you’d be drinking like a stout or something stronger. Whiskey, neat. Something like that.”  
“Bourbon.”

“Right. Bourbon,” Jaskier nodded and shrugged a single shoulder. “Sure, what was I thinking? Whiskey. Such a bland and boring drink for boring sensible Geralt the CEO, nothing fun or exciting or unique or --”

Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s drink and gulped down almost half of it before setting it back down and smirking wickedly as his thumb swiped any cocktail from his lips that was left behind. 

“Fun enough for you?”

Utterly speechless, Jaskier forced a swallow and nodded. 

“Right. Quite, yeah. Really.” 

His hand patted the bar searching for his drink while he maintained eye contact with Geralt before pulling it in and drinking from it. 

“So, what now? More skee ball? Or maybe mini-golf, since I recall you sounding so enthused about the prospect before,” Geralt drank deeply from his own drink. Jaskier was silent for a few moments, trying to decide exactly what he’d want to do next, but he couldn’t seem to think straight. He was too focused on the way Geralt’s lips were moving after he swallowed his drink. The way they smacked softly, the way his tongue ran across his bottom lip and the way his bottom lip rolled in under his top teeth. Blinking rapidly, Jaskier’s eyes darted up to Geralt’s. 

“Sorry, what?”

Geralt chuckled softly. 

“Mini-golf?” 

“Erm. Yeah. Yeah, mini golf. Yeah. Right. I’ll just,” he tipped his glass back and drained the drink, “Ready!”

Geralt rolled his eyes again, a playful half smile on his face, as he finished his own drink and stood up. They both made their way to the back of the arcade where they found the mini-golf counter. There, they rented a putter each, Jaskier snagging up the neon pink one while Geralt went for a plain yellow. How droll, Jaskier complained at length. Geralt just rolled his eyes. A favorite thing of his to do, apparently. They then got a ball each to match their putter, and selected a course to play through. Geralt got to pick and he selected ‘Tour the World’. 

They were halfway through the course when Jaskier was lining up a shot, preparing for what he said would have been a hole in one. 

“See, Geralt, just you wait. I’m going to hit the ball just so, and it’s going to bounce exactly four times. One, over the little river. Two. Three-four. Right over that hump there, hit the curb right there, and then spin right into the hole. Watch and learn!”

Jaskier stood back up from where he was kneeling and made a frame with his hands, angling them this way and that as if he were calculating the perfect angle. 

“You said that about the last hole,” Geralt teased behind him, leaning against his putter. 

“I know, but  _ this _ time, it’s going to work!”

With the wiggle of his hips (definitely him getting into position, not him trying to tease Geralt, nope), Jaskier lined up his shot and pulled his putter back in the windup when--

“Look out!!” someone shouted a few feet away. Jaskier glanced up just in time to see a stray ball flying right at him. With a loud and painful crack, it smashed into his temple and sent him flying backwards into the water behind him. He vaguely heard Geralt call his name but he sank into the pond and felt his head pulsing where he was hit. 

Strong hands pulled him from the water and he coughed hard, finding himself on the rough terrain that was the golf course. 

“You okay, Jaskier?” 

“Yeah--yeah. I--” he coughed and grabbed his head. 

“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry! I told her not to hit it hard, it’s just mini-golf!” A woman came scurrying up, looking utterly worried. “Are you okay? Do we need to call someone?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Dignity is a little crumpled, but--”

“I’m so sorry. She was eager to play. Thinks she’s Patty Berg, or something.”

“Who?” Jaskier peered up through squinted eyes and saw the tumpy woman who was standing there looking worriedly over him. 

“Oh uh, a golfer my daughter is obsessed with. I’m still so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

“No, no, I’m quite fine. Thanks, though. Go about your game,” Jaskier shooed her away and watched as she returned to her daughter who looked like she was being scolded. “Damn. If anyone asks, she was 13. And built like a gorilla.”

Geralt laughed heartily as he helped Jaskier sit up. 

“What? Can’t have my reputation damaged too much. Do you know what they’d say if they found out I was nearly knocked out by a seven year old who looks like a stiff breeze would snap her in half?”

“I could only imagine,” Geralt was still laughing. He pulled Jaskier to his feet then, holding his hands with one hand, he lifted the other to ghost cold fingers across where there was now a knot growing on Jaskier’s forehead. “You’ll need some ice.”

“Eh. Yeah. Probably. I’m really, truly, fine though. Honest,” Jaskier tried to dismiss it but Geralt’s fingers moved to cradle Jaskier’s skull and before he knew it, he was pulled into a very sweet and tender kiss. Well, not the most ideal circumstances for a kiss but hey, Jaskier would take it. He leaned into the kiss with a sigh, his hands still being held by both of Geralt’s so the best he could do was to press his shoulder into Geralt’s. 

They parted too soon for Jaskier’s liking but Geralt rumbled out a soft laugh. 

“Family friendly, Jaskier. Keep it family friendly.”

“How family friendly could this place be, though, if they have a bar?” Jaskier countered. It only made Geralt laugh more. 

Stepping back from Jaskier, Geralt picked up his putter and twirled it. 

“So we have four holes left, and half a bucket of tokens. What would you like to do?” Geralt asked.   
“What _don’t_ I want to do?”

Rolling his eyes, Geralt smirked and pulled Jaskier in for a side hug. 

The rest of the night passed faster than Jaskier wished it would have. They finished golf and turned their putters in before going in for a couple more drinks. There, they talked and laughed. Geralt opened up a little more, loosened up, but too much, and Jaskier started to feel a little more than buzzed. Since they had more tokens, Jaskier took them through the arcade and they both took turns trying out new games or competing with each other for the highest score. 

“So, kicking your ass at skee-ball wasn’t enough for you, you now want me to destroy you at ‘Big Buck Hunter Pro’?” Geralt hummed at Jaskier when they approached the consoles. 

“You dare impugn my honor, dear sir?”

“Oh, is that what you have? Honor?”

Pixelated deer and bucks darted among pixelated trees and foliage, and the two aimed their plastic guns firing at the screen. Like with the skee-ball, Geralt got the high score and wiped the floor with Jaskier. He was in the middle of entering his initials in the high score slot when Jaskier wrenched him away. 

“That’s it. We’re playing a game I  _ know _ you won’t beat me at.”

“Wait--Jaskier!” Geralt protested, dropping the plastic gun to avoid ripping the cable from the console. Not relenting, Jaskier practically dragged Geralt to the loud machine against the wall. 

“Oh, no. No no. Not DDR,” Geralt started to walk away but Jaskier grabbed his wrist. Honestly, he had no chance of stopping him, but his touch alone made Geralt pause. The reluctance in his eyes made Jaskier turn on the pout. Lip stuck out, big puppy eyes, lowered shoulders.

Geralt looked at him hard and heaved a very heavy and resigned sigh before he stepped up to the machine. 

Jaskier clapped excitedly and hopped up, popping their tokens in and showing Geralt how to play. It was a generic loud bassy techno-song and they were off. Jaskier was graceful, dancing and tapping each arrow in perfect rhythm while making the most of the loud thrumming bass beat. He shook his ass at Geralt, waved his hands in the air, and went as absolutely extra as was possible in the space he was given. He was so absorbed in his performance he hardly noticed the way Geralt stared mostly at the ground and tapped his toes to the lit up arrows frantically attempting to match one to the ones that crawled on the screen. By the end, Geralt’s score was absolutely pathetic while Jaskier’s was borderline perfect. 

“Ha! See? I absolutely wiped the floor with you.” 

“Yep. You beat me,” Geralt hummed, stepping off the machine quickly and readjusting his shirt. 

“I’d say that’s enough to make us even.” 

“Mmmh.”

“Truce?” Jaskier extended his hand to shake but instead of shaking it, Geralt took it and pulled Jaskier in to kiss his forehead. His hand wrapped around Jaskier’s waist and he hummed softly. 

“Truce.”

After that, Jaskier had the time of his life. And it looked like Geralt did as well. He laughed and teased Jaskier, he cheered and groaned at all the right times as Jaskier played the games and Geralt only mostly watched. Here and there, he’d convince Geralt to go ahead and play one too, but Geralt insisted he was having more fun watching Jaskier than actually participating. 

The announcement over the PA stating that the arcade was closing in five minutes jarred Jaskier, making him look around in stunned silence. 

“It’s over already?” He whined.

“Just for now. We can’t do this all forever,” Geralt said softly, his hand on his date’s shoulder and a sweet smile on his face. 

“And why not?” Jaskier started to pout.

Chuckling in reply, Geralt steered Jaskier toward the ticket counter where he handed their pile of tickets to Jaskier. 

“What would you like?” He gestured to the prizes. 

“Oh-wait, Geralt, some of these are yours, I can’t take--”

Geralt gave Jaskier an expression that shut him up and made him look at the prizes under the glass display. Pencil eraser toppers, yo-yos, plastic ‘sunglasses’, those odd squishy tubes filled with water and glitter and confetti. Looking higher to the wall, he saw the lava lamps, the stuffed animals, and the tech gadgets. 

“What can I get for… these?” Jaskier pushed the tickets at the bored teenager behind the counter who took the tickets and ran them through a counter. 

“Handful of these,” they tapped the counter above the toppers, “a bunch of these,” they tapped the counter above the tubes, “or maybe one of these,” they turned to gesture to one of the smaller stuffed toys. 

“Ohhhh… I’d love that wolf,” Jaskier smiled and pointed. The teenager pulled the stuffed wolf off the chain on the wall and passed it to Jaskier who hugged it close. A small smile on Geralt's face made Jaskier feel warm all over. 

“Ready to go?”

“Now that I have received my rightly earned prize, I am quite ready to disembark,” Jaskier replied, cocking his head and waving a hand toward the door. 

“Do you ever stop being dramatic?”

“Geralt, you’ve known me long enough now to know the answer to that question. Which is no, by the way. Not one bit. I am the king of drama.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Geralt replied with half a smirk. He put his hand on Jaskier’s lower back and ushered him to the door where he led Jaskier to his car. The sun had gone down long ago and the parking lot was bathed in the odd yellow glow of the lamps posted every ten spaces. Jaskier slid into the passenger seat and buckled up, tucking the stuffed wolf beside him. 

Geralt turned the car on, turned up the music, took Jaskier’s hand, and drove them toward Jaskier’s apartment. 

“It was a very fun night, Geralt. Thank you. Thank you so much,” Jaskier was in the middle of unbuckling himself and opening the door when Geralt grabbed his wrist. 

“Here. Come see me sometime,” Geralt said so softly that Jaskier almost didn’t hear him. 

“What?”

Geralt presented Jaskier with a plain white card that had a single barcode on the back. 

“Come see me sometime,” Geralt repeated. 

Taking the card, Jaskier blinked. 

“This is a security card for your office, innit?”

“It is.”

“This will let me past your guards and up to your office?”

“Yes, Jaskier,” Geralt chuckled. 

“Oh, how wonderful! Geralt, this is… This is great! Thank you,” Jaskier pocketed the card and leaned over the console to throw his arms around Geralt. 

“You realize this means you’re never getting rid of me, right?”

Laughing softly, Geralt buried his face in Jaskier’s neck. 

“I’m well aware.”

Pulling back, Jaskier smiled at Geralt before pressing a sweet kiss onto his lips. He felt more than heard Geralt hum into the kiss, felt his fingers card through his hair. When they parted, Geralt pressed his forehead to Jaskier’s and sighed softly. 

“Sleep well, Jaskier. And stay safe.”

“I will, Geralt. You as well. Good night,” Jaskier pulled back and exited the car, heading back up to his studio. There, he changed and got ready for bed, tucking the white wolf in beside him as he fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO if you guys noticed, I've updated the chapter count - It's official! 13 chapters planned! I'm so excited, looking forward to the next five chapters after this. 
> 
> And update! I've applied for the director position at my job, and while I'm an anxious little mess, I'm hopeful things work out. I'm so thankful to have you all here being so supportive!! Still probably not going to maintain any sort of consistent schedule but I guarantee I'll keep posting until its all done!
> 
> Come chat with me!~ Tumblr: @mysalyss Twitter @mysalyssart


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:)

Triss hadn’t been working for Jaskier’s next shift, leaving him with two other coworkers that he was friendly enough with, yeah, but not nearly as close to as Triss. Not close enough at least that he would gush to them about his latest date. About how deep and emotional Geralt became over the music he was playing, about how fun the playful competition was between the two, and about how utterly and entirely he was falling for Geralt. Instead, Jaskier opted for generic small talk conversations with the coworkers as their shifts seemed to drag on and eventually a kind and generic farewell at the end of their day. 

Though he had class, Jaskier hadn’t really wanted to go. Instead, he wanted to go see Geralt. Was it too soon the day after their date? Maybe. But did he care? Nope!

Untucking his polo and ruffling his hair, Jaskier forced himself to walk calmly across the street and up to the office building where he grabbed the door and pulled to find it -- locked. Locked? What? It wasn’t past office hours, was it? He rattled the door again and again before finally looking up at the glass. A neatly laminated paper was taped to the inside of the door. It told Jaskier that the office was closed for the next week for a company related excursion but would be open again the following week. 

Sticking his lower lip out and looking up at the massive building, Jaskier stepped back. His hands tucked into his pockets and he sighed. Right. Well. Suppose he’ll wait until next week, he guesses. 

Feeling a prickle on the back of his neck, like there was a set of unwelcomed eyes locked on him, Jaskier turned and looked around. People just continued to go about their business, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Bristling at the feeling of being watched, Jaskier made his way toward the subway. Well, might as well head to class. He’d miss the first one for sure but he supposes he could sit through the lecture for the second one. Probably the best idea, really. He’s been neglecting his schooling a little too much lately. 

Grumping his way to the subway, Jaskier began to let his mind wander. He doesn’t quite remember getting to campus but he soon found himself sitting in his usual seat, twirling the Protection Beyond pen in his fingers. The lecturer droned on and on, hardly pausing for breath. Their sentences run on, and really, how was it possible someone could make romantic period music history so utterly and totally boring? 

Finally.  _ Finally _ . The class was over and Jaskier made his way home. He took his usual route, pausing at the area where the gas line exploded. There was still caution tape around the area, the concrete was cracked and crumbled and in disarray. It still smelled like ash and Jaskier shivered. Funny how just less than a month ago, he was nearly one of the fatalities of the blast. Thinking of it sent him into an odd distant mood, contemplating his mortality. 

Jaskier made his way home. 

Picking up his guitar, he laid on his bed and rested it on his lap as he gazed out the window at the now darkened night sky. His fingertips slowly caressed up and down the strings, feeling the ridges of the tightly wound wires expertly strung up the fretboard of the neck. Slow breaths came and went as Jaskier let his mind wander. He thought about life. He thought about death. He thought about the path he was currently on in life and thought about what things might have been like if he’d stayed home. Would he be suffering so many close calls, would he have nearly died? Would he have fully died? He would never have met Triss. He never would have met Geralt. 

Jaskier shook his head and began to strum a song, singing along softly until fatigue overtook him. It was such a bizarre mindset to be in. He really doesn’t think he’s ever been in such a mindset. The thoughts of life and mortality and this unshakeable feeling in the back of his mind that something is really off with the world. Ever since that near miss with the train… he should have died. He should have been nothing more than gore on a subway railway. His parents should have been made to mourn their only son, to create some sort of memorial in the mausoleum back home that they owned, to entomb an empty urn or coffin in his memory, before being forgotten in a decade or two.   
He… didn’t like where his mind was going. No, he _really_ didn’t like where his mind was going. With a bitter taste on his tongue, he put his guitar away and tucked himself into bed without eating dinner. The night was too quiet so he grabbed his phone off the night stand and started playing the first ‘Soothing Sounds for Sleepytime’ compilation he found online. Then, he spent the next four hours staring out the window before he managed to finally fall under. 

Four days passed dreadfully slow for Jaskier. He’d wake up, shower and shave, and dress for the day. The first two days, he worked his shift through quietly. Triss was still gone - how dare she not tell him she had planned a trip with her mom to Colorado, how dare it take him having to text her to ask where the hell she was - and with his mind still on the morbidity it was the other night, he really didn’t feel up to his normal charming chatty self. One of the other employees asked if he was okay and he flashed a smile and reassured them that, yes, he was just tired. School and all. They gave him an expression of understanding and launched in with their own tales of college woes, enough so that Jaskier felt comfortable remaining quiet and not contributing. Though, now that he thought about it, he was really getting bad about putting off his assignments. He can’t exactly remember when he last turned one in. What bothered him most about thinking about it was how little he cared. Hadn’t music education been his passion?...

Swallowing it down, Jaskier continued his work. 

The fourth and fifth day, he didn’t have a shift at work so he settled in at home, half-determined to finish his homework and study for the test coming up in a couple days. No matter what he did, he just couldn’t focus. His mind would start to wander and the next thing he knew, he was looking up tabs to  _ Dream a Little Dream _ or googling ‘Near Death Experiences’. Frustrated with the severe lack of work done by the end of the fifth day, Jaskier went to bed quite angry with himself. 

Day six found him sitting in a new park, some park down south he’d wandered in, strumming his guitar with a tip jar set up nearby. 

_ “Staring into your eyes, everything simplifies, leave it all behind, everything simplifies. All we need is nothing more when everything simplifies, you and I need nothing more, everything simplifies,”  _

Jaskier really seemed to sing to no one here compared to his usual park where he’d project his voice and use body language and facial expression to draw the crowd in. Between songs, instead of boasting loudly about himself or calling compliments to passing park-goers, he retreated inward and was silent. Slow expert fingers would tune the guitar, making sure it was in the correct key for the next song, and slide up and down the strings before he would slowly begin in with the next one. 

_ “When the tears come streaming down your face, cause you lose something you can’t replace, when you love someone but it goes to waste, what could it be worse?” _

People would pause and listen to his more melancholy tones, making slow or meaningful songs sound even more impactful. They were impressed with the performance, thinking him a grand actor putting forth an exaggerated show. For some reason, though, it just made him feel worse. 

_ “Sweet dreams ‘til sunbeams find you, sweet dreams that leave all worries far behind you, but in your dreams whatever they be, dream a little dream of me,”  _

He finished his set off without any hooplah, moving to grab his tip jar and secure his guitar in the worn case he has yet to replace. Something’s gotta give, he thought to himself. Jaskier made his way to the subway and texted Triss, asking to just talk on the phone. Maybe her getting into his head would get him out of it for a little bit. Maybe she’d have some insight to this absolute bizarre and out-of-nowhere mindset he’s been in. Triss is brilliant, she absolutely can help him fix this. 

_ “Sorry, Jasky, there’s not enough signal here for that. What’s up?” _

_ “Oh, well no worries then, it’s not a big deal.” _

_ “You sure? I can always text!” _

_ “Yeah, I’ll chat when you get back. Just a couple more days, right?”  _

_ “Yep! And I’ll tell you all about the trip and you tell me all about your date!!” _

Sitting on the subway seat, Jaskier tucked his phone away and sighed. The lights flickered as the train went around a corner and he heaved another breath. His stop came up soon and he wandered on autopilot out of the traincar to head up to the surface. 

Sipping coffee on day seven, Jaskier sat at his computer with his headphones on and a Glenn Miller playlist softly playing on as he worked on his assignments for school. Probably for the best he finished these today, he told himself. Especially after that concerned email from one of his teachers expressing their surprise and confusion at his recent apathy when it came to his work. ‘ _ Your passion was an inspiration and I sincerely hope you find it again soon, elsewise the world is a smaller and sadder place’  _ she wrote. The guilt settled in his gut like a bad hot dog. He didn’t know exactly where the odd mood had come from but it certainly wasn’t doing him any good so he decided to actively try to change it, starting with music. 

He was really starting to get into it when his alarm went off. At first, he didn’t hear it. Instead, he was in the middle of a complex thought process as he worked through the physics problem that he’d previously not at all understood. When he did finally hear the alarm, he swore loudly and threw his headphones off. He was late to work. That should have been a sign to Jaskier to maybe just call in, but instead he scrambled about the apartment and threw on his uniform to run out the door and toward the subway. It should have been a sign, he thought bitterly as they got slammed. Jaskier wound up staying past his scheduled shift by three hours. 

Grumbling to himself, he wrenched his polo from his waistband and moved to clock out when a hand shot out and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling his hand away from the timeclock. 

“Can’t leave now!” Triss was there, grinning at him. 

“Triss? I didn’t know you worked today. I didn’t know you were even back in town,” he replied, confused. She laughed. 

“Yeah, we came back a day early. Mom got food poisoning and didn’t want to spend the rest of the trip in the bathroom so we just came home. Claire called me and said we were being slammed so I came in to help. I’m hurt that you didn’t notice me!” 

Jaskier threw his arms around her and hugged her tight, laughing cheerfully as she did. 

“I missed you! Don’t you do that to me again, Triss, that was rude. Elsewise I’d have to personally hunt you down myself.”

“Sorry, Jasky!” 

“Don’t call me Jasky.”

“Jaskier. Whatever. I am sorry though. Mom got a real short notice deal on plane tickets and I couldn’t say no. I was too excited to think to tell anyone. I’m sorry,” she gave an apologetic look when they pulled apart and looked at each other. It made Jaskier roll his eyes, though he was smiling. “Now, come on. I owe you a drink for my being-a-bad-friend, and you owe me the story of your date!”

“Sorry. I have homework and--”

“Come on. Homework,” she lifts one hand, “or drinks and gossip,” she lifts the other. “Homework,” she made a disgusted face (tongue out and all) as she lifted the first hand again, “Or drinks,” she over exaggerated a grin and lifted the second hand. For a couple seconds she kept alternating between the two expressions and lifting each hand before Jaskier poked his finger against her second hand. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Triss laughed. 

“One thing, though. I gotta do this one thing, though,” Jaskier waggled his finger at her. He then turned and paced confidently toward the door. 

“No, no no no! We are going on. No other things, no school, nothing. You and me and some good drinks! Now, come on. I still have one of your shirts in my car,” Triss grabbed him by the shoulders and yanked him back, pushing him toward the back door where Triss usually parked. Protesting did no good so Jaskier resigned himself to her mercy. 

“I said, put the money in the bag! Now!” A harsh voice yelled over the chatter of patrons in the cafe, meeting Jaskier’s ears just as they reached the door. 

“Hang on,” he put his hand on Triss’ and pushed by her. Peering around the corner, he saw a man with a cloth tied about the lower half of his face holding a gun in the face of one of the employees. Frowning at how the employee was crying, hands shaking as her hands went to the register, he pushed Triss back behind the wall. “Call the cops. And stay here,” he hissed at her. 

“Wait- Jaskier, no!” 

He didn’t listen. 

“Can I help you sir? I can’t help but notice you seem to be upsetting my employee here,” Jaskier put on a bravado, lifting his chin and puffing his chest. 

“You wanna get fucking shot? Put the money in the bag. I won’t ask again,” the robber snarled. 

“Listen, mate. We’ve all been there. Bottom of the pit, nothing to your name. It doesn’t have to go like this, though. You know what they say, there’s nowhere to go but up. And I’d say, someone like you willing to put forth this sorta effort--”

“Shut the fuck up. Last chance. Money in the bag, or I start shooting!” 

Jaskier felt his blood drain from his face as the robber made a show of taking the safety off and carefully aiming it square at Jaskier’s heart. Swallowing, Jaskier put his hands up.

“The police are on their way. If you leave now, you won’t be caught, I guarantee it. I’m always telling them they need to upgrade the cameras, you can’t see shit on them and--”

The robber’s finger squeezed the trigger but before the bullet could fire, as Jaskier braced for being shot, a hand grabbed the barrel of the gun and moved it to be pressed against a broad chest. Blood sprayed and an angry snarl crackled out over the sudden screams and shrieks of the customers who snapped to and were scrambling frantically to escape the shop. 

“Geralt!” Jaskier whispered in fear to see a hole blown through Geralt’s chest. 

“What the fuck! What are you?!” the robber fearfully cried out.

Geralt only snarled viciously in response, twisting the gun away so far to hurt the arm of the gunman who cried out in pain. The expression on his face could only be described as wildly manic snarling. Without speaking, Geralt threw a vicious punch that shattered the robber’s nose before cracking the bones in his wrist. He lifted a leg and kicked it at the robber’s knee. Jaskier could hear the bones snap as the man screamed in pain and crumpled to the floor. 

“Geralt!” Jaskier hopped the counter and slammed his hands against the hole in Geralt’s chest, looking around in a panic. “He’s been shot! I need help!” 

“Jaskier.”

“Lay down, Geralt, just relax. Help is coming, help is coming,” Jaskier panted. His hands were shaking violently and people were still scrambling around him. Some were trying to get out of the cafe, some were working on dragging the robber to the walk-in freezer to hold for the police, and some were trying to see what Jaskier was screaming about. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt tried again, grabbing him by the wrists. He tried to pull Jaskier’s hands away but Jaskier, for all the panic and terror in his system, fought him. 

“Stop, Geralt, you’re going to bleed out! Just hang on and--”

“ _ Jaskier! _ ” Geralt’s voice was enough to make Jaskier pause. “Come with me.” 

Swallowing and looking down at the blood darkened button up shirt, Jaskier opened his mouth to protest again but then Geralt had him up in his arms and suddenly they were out the door. There were sirens growing closer, flashing red and blue lights coming around the corner, but Jaskier found himself seated in the sports car. Then, they were flying down the road. 

“What are you doing? Geralt, you need help! We can’t let--”

“It’s okay, Jaskier,” Geralt was whiteknuckling the steering wheel, the engine roaring as he pressed the gas pedal to the floorboard. Jaskier was clambering his way out of his seat and across the center console to try to press his hand to Geralt’s chest again. Without even looking, Geralt pushed him back into the seat and swiftly snapped Jaskier’s seat belt back on. 

“No, Geralt, you’re in shock. We need to go to the hospital. You’re going to die, and if you think I can just live with you dying on my hands--”

Geralt slammed on the brakes and Jaskier jerked forward in the seat, flopping back with a grunt. He was surprised to find they were at Geralt’s house. Geralt got out of the car and Jaskier wrenched the door open, chasing him up the steps into the house. 

“Geralt, please!” he was nearly sobbing from fear by now but Geralt continued up the stairs and into his bedroom. “Stop! You’re going to--”

“I’m going to be fine, Jaskier! Look,” Geralt whipped around and ripped his button up shirt to expose his chest. Had it been any other time, Jaskier would have absolutely drooled over the sight of Geralt’s exposed chest. He would have touched the broad and well sculpted chest muscles, he would have run his hands over the taut skin and the odd looking scar across his left pectoral. But now, Jaskier just gaped with disbelief at the clean and otherwise imperfection free skin. There was no bullet wound. 

“You… You you… I saw you shot. I saw it. Geralt, there’s…” he breathed out, shaking harder now and hyperventilating. 

“Take a breath, Jaskier. It’s okay--”

“No, no no, no nonononononono,” Jaskier nearly collapsed, his head in his hands as he staggered back. “This is impossible. This is… No, it can’t be. I saw you shot. I saw it. You were shot. You were--”

“You’re right. I was shot. But look, see with your own eyes. I’m okay. Unharmed. Now will you calm down? You’re in hysterics,” Geralt tried again, touching where he was shot, but Jaskier was not having it still. 

“No, it can’t be. There’s no way. You should be dead right now!”

“I already am!”

Jaskier froze in place and stared at Geralt. 

“I’m a Reaper, Jaskier. I’m already dead. I can’t die again!”

Jaskier huffed out a laugh of disbelief. 

“Right. That’s it then. I’m just dreaming. Cuz that’s the second time the dream-you has told me that. That’s all it is. Maybe I was shot back there, I’m probably unconscious or even dead or--”

“Goddamnit, Jaskier,” Geralt surged forward and grabbed Jaskier’s hand, pressing it to his chest. “You’re not dreaming. You’re not shot. You’re not dead. This is real.”

“There’s no way, no, Geralt, you can’t be a reaper. That’s impossible,” Jaskier pulled his hand away. 

“Then what? What is it, Jaskier??” 

“Anything but this! Cuz that would mean-- That would mean…”

“Yeah. And you know how fucking hard it is to keep your ass alive? Damn it, Jaskier, it’s like you  _ want  _ to die. The train tracks, I could give a pass, you were pushed and had no control. But the street? Crossing without looking, how dense could you possibly be? Then you went off and got yourself so drunk you couldn’t get yourself home without being mugged, nearly stabbed and left to bleed out just a short distance from your home. Not watching where you’re going and slipping on spilled cocoa, though really, only you would have died from hitting your head on a table. The explosion I can’t fault you for because you weren’t the only one who was supposed to die in that, but the electrified water and the greasy spoon? Falling down my stairs and nearly falling off Triss’ balcony? And then  _ stepping in front of a deranged man who threatened to shoot you?”  _ Geralt was ranting angrily now, waving his arms and pacing the room as Jaskier stood there slack jawed and staring with watery eyes at him. “Do you realize what I’ve had to go through to keep you from killing yourself this last month and a half? How many times I’ve had to rush to find you before it was too late, how I’ve felt having to pull you back to safety! You should be dead by now but you’re not because apparently I’m a fucking glutton for punishment because I can’t let you die, Jaskier!”

Standing there, looking more intense and emotional than Jaskier’s ever seen him, Geralt panted heavily and drew his hand up his forehead to smooth his hair back. Of all the things Jaskier wanted to say, of all the questions and declarations and accusations, all he could manage was a single word. 

“Why?”

Geralt’s eyes snapped up to him. The gold of the irises that Jaskier was so madly in love with pulsed as Geralt’s pupils constricted briefly with his confusion. 

“Why?... Why what?” That clearly wasn’t the response he was expecting from Jaskier. 

“Why can’t you let me die?” Jaskier’s voice was small and perhaps a bit self-deprecative as he stared Geralt in the eyes. In the beat of a heart, he watched Geralt go through a whole slew of emotions. Hurt. Anger. Passion. Confusion. Disgust. Denial. Hope. Sadness. Fear. And finally, resignation. 

“Because I love you,” Geralt deflated, “I can’t let you die because I love you and I can’t… You were supposed to have died on those tracks but I just couldn’t let that happen because I just fucking love you.”

Mouth suddenly dry and heart suddenly racing beneath his ribs, Jaskier blinked and tried to force a swallow. 

“You… what?”

Geralt’s arms hung limply at his sides and he took a sharp breath. 

“I love you, Jaskier. What more could I say to--”

Jaskier rushed forward and took Geralt’s face in his hands and locked lips with him, kissing him deeply and passionately. For a moment, Geralt didn’t react. Then, he grabbed Jaskier and hefted him up into his arms, kissing him back with just as much hunger and passion. Jaskier’s fingers tangled in Geralt’s hair, pulling it free of the hair tie that had secured it against his head. That elicited a deep groan from him that sent a shiver through Jaskier’s spine as Geralt turned the two and flopped them both onto the bed. Not once did they break the kiss that was turning more frenzied and hungry. 

Both of Geralt’s hands roughly pushed up under Jaskier’s polo, his broad palms firmly smoothing up his belly and ribs before they wrapped around his back to draw his nails firmly down his spine. Not enough to hurt him but enough to raise Jaskier’s skin, enough to make Jaskier gasp out and arch his back. One of his feet pressed into the mattress while the other hooked around Geralt’s thigh, drawing his body against his own. A hand ran down Geralt’s side and gripped his ass. 

They parted long enough to take heavy breaths and gaze into each other’s eyes. Geralt’s eyes were thick with want, heavy lidded with blown pupils. He barely blinked as he gazed down at Jaskier. 

“Are you sure you want this?” Geralt asked, his voice dripping with lust. 

“Oh, fuck yes, please,” Jaskier replied. As he did, he shimmied his feet together to kick his shoes off and hook his toe into the hem of his sock to rip it off before doing the same with the other. 

Chuckling in a low tone, Geralt lowered his head to continue kissing him hungrily. Jaskier pawed at the still unbuttoned shirt hanging from Geralt’s shoulders, trying to force it off him. The silky but blood ruined shirt fell away when Geralt pulled his arms free, his hands leaving Jaskier’s body long enough for Jaskier to undress his torso. The hands returned, pushing the polo up again this time to Jaskier’s collarbone so Geralt could direct his attention to Jaskier’s body. Geralt began kissing down Jaskier’s ribs, giving each nipple ample attention before moving down his belly, teasing his lips and tongue at Jaskier’s waistband.

“That tickles, Geralt,” Jaskier chuckled breathily before Geralt took his waistband in hand and made quick work of undoing his button and zipper, drawing it down to expose the tented underwear. He shimmied his slacks to the floor and Jaskier sat up, trying to do the same with Geralt’s pants. 

“Here,”

Geralt rocked back on his knees and undid his own pants, stepped off the bed, and pulled them and his underwear entirely off. He moved to crawl on top of Jaskier again but Jaskier pushed on his shoulder and stared at him. 

“Just… Let me look at you for a moment, yeah?”

Frowning in confusion, Geralt stepped back. There, he was on full display for Jaskier. And fuck, if he wasn’t the most beautiful man Jaskier had ever seen. The muscles, as he’d figured out before, perfectly sculpted under the pale perfect skin. He’d had the perfect amount of body hair and was well groomed in all the right spots. And that  _ cock _ . Jaskier eyed it with hunger before waving a hand at Geralt, “Alright, yeah, get over here already!”

Geralt laughed softly and was on top of Jaskier, kissing him deeply and palming the smaller one once more. They both pulled his polo free and he managed to shove his underwear down to his ankles. The moment he was exposed, Geralt was down there taking him into his mouth. 

“Oh, fuck Geralt. You--” he started but Geralt’s tongue was so warm wrapping around the tip, his cheeks so soft when he bobbed down, and Geralt’s fingers expertly worked the tender skin of Jaskier’s balls. Soft pants escaped Jaskier as he threaded a hand through Geralt’s loose hair. Gods, it wasn’t fair how beautiful Geralt looked down there. Jaskier couldn’t help it. He tightened his fingers in Geralt’s hair and he started bucking his hips upward with soft noises of pleasure. But then Geralt pulled away, leaving Jaskier exposed to the cold air again.

Pulling a small tube of lubricant and the foil square that contained a condom from the nightstand, Geralt looked to Jaskier with a smirk. The look sent a shock through Jaskier’s heart. Geralt quickly climbed back onto the bed over Jaskier, kissing him again. 

Their lips parted and Jaskier’s tongue eagerly explored Geralt’s mouth, tangling with Geralt’s tongue and tasting the sweet and tangy flavor of his lover. His hips drove up against Geralt’s and he felt more than heard Geralt’s grunt. One of Geralt’s hands slipped to tease at Jaskier’s entrance while the other cracked the lube open. When he pulled back, Jaskier saw his pupils were blown with hunger. 

“Never shuts up unless his lips are occupied,” Geralt whispered. He grabbed the condom, unwrapped it and sheathed it up his shaft, then slicked it up with lube. Pressing the tip to the tight ring of muscle, he started pushing forward but met resistance. 

“Relax,” Geralt purred. 

“I know,” Jaskier snarked back. He took a breath and let his body melt so Geralt could finally enter. His muscles stretched and contracted around Geralt, drawing a low groan from him. The moment he was fully buried inside Jaskier, his eyes darkened and he smirked dangerously as he pulled back, gripped Jaskier’s hips, and started in. 

Geralt fell into a frenzied unforgiving pace, snapping his hips forward firmly just to pull them back and snap forward once more. Each thrust had him seeing stars. Jaskier moaned loudly, the vulgar sounds of his vocalizations covering the smacking of skin together, and dragged his nails down Geralt’s back making the reaper snarl softly into his neck where his face was firmly buried. 

“Geralt… fuck, Geralt. Right there,” Jaskier panted heavily. His moans grew in intensity when Geralt listened, adjusting his angle to hit that spot again and again. 

Two massive hands gripped his hips and he felt the occasional sharp pain of his nails digging into Jaskier’s flesh but he liked it. He pushed his hips up into the hold, one of his hands even coming down to hold Geralt’s hand in place. For a second, he thought briefly about how he was a little disappointed they hadn’t taken their time, how he really wanted to lavish Geralt in foreplay and teasing, to worship and explore with Geralt, but it was just a brief thought and was gone in a second. 

By now, Jaskier’s skin was entirely flushed and starting to speckle with sweat. With each thrust, Geralt managed to hit him just right and he was starting to feel his climax building. No, he was having too much fun, he didn’t want it to end so soon, he didn’t-- 

“Jaskier. So warm, Jaskier,” Geralt suddenly purred, his movements growing a little more frantic and sporadic. Despite their bodies being pressed together, Geralt stuck a hand between them to give Jaskier’s cock some firm and swift strokes. 

“W-wait… I’m---” Jaskier tried to stop him, wanting to last longer, but the way Geralt’s hand moved paired with the way he was still pounding into him had Jaskier spilling over with a loud cry of Geralt’s name. Muscles snapped together and he spilled the hot sticky fluid between their bodies. 

“Ah fuck,” he panted, hardly having time to take an adequate breath as Geralt didn’t relent. Geralt chuckled, his hand leaving Jaskier’s shaft and returning to his hip. Leaning in, Geralt nibbled at Jaskier’s ear. 

“Sorry,” Jaskier breathed. The thrusts slowed a bit and Geralt lifted his head enough to gaze at him. 

“For what?”

“Finished too soon… Wanted… to keep going,” Jaskier managed between heavy pants and soft moans. 

“It’s not like we can’t do this again,” Geralt hummed. He pulled back, gripped Jaskier’s thighs, and drew them apart to hit Jaskier at a different angle. “We have all the time in the world.”

“Yeah…fuck yeah, we can...” Jaskier weakly moaned, still riding his high from the orgasm and starting to feel overstimulated. “Then… Then cum in me,”

Geralt latched his teeth firmly into Jaskier’s inner thigh as he rode his own orgasm out with soft grunts and gasps. Each thrust of his hips slowed, stammering out into a disjointed rhythm, before they finally stopped entirely. Panting hard, Geralt’s body grew heavy atop Jaskier’s. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier whispered, his body feeling weak. 

“Hmm?” 

Geralt slowly rolled off Jaskier, pulling out of him and leaving him feeling hollow and empty but beyond content. 

“... I love you, too.”

“Mmh.” 

There was a small smirk on Geralt’s face as he took Jaskier’s hand and kissed his knuckles. Both were breathing heavily, gazing at each other with soft eyes and satisfied smiles. It was silent for a few moments, long enough for their breathing to even out, before Jaskier broke the quiet. A soft bell jingled in the distance and Jaskier pictured Roach prancing around the house in the dark. Humming softly, he turned his head and stroked Geralt’s jawline. 

“Round two?”

“Already?”

“What? Don’t tell me you need more time. Are you that old, dead man, that you can’t---”

Geralt interrupted Jaskier with a laugh as he pulled him up onto his hips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *confetti* THE REVEAL!! AND THE *SMUUUUT* 
> 
> update: i've interviewed for the position and its gonna be another week or so before I find out! I'm working to chug away hard at the last of the chapters, I have 5 left and I'm hoping I can get them done before my schedule potentially changes. Thanks for still sticking around! I Love and appreciate all of you!!
> 
> come chat with me~ tumblr: @mysalyss twitter: @mysalyssart


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of the inspiration-ideas from Dead like Me up ahead, if you havent yet I highly recommend watching this glorious show!

As morning sunlight filtered in through the curtains and danced along the soft features of Jaskier’s sleeping form, a tense voice made its way from the other room to make him stir from his sleep. He took a deep breath through the nose and squeezed his eyes together. Rubbing his fist in his eye, he slowly turned over and sat up. 

“Geralt,” his voice was husky from sleep and from all the loud noises he made the other night during rounds two and three. Speaking of, he needed to ask Geralt about that stamina, was it a fitness thing, a haven’t-had-sex-in-a-while thing, or a reaper thing?... Reaper. As his vision came into focus, he gazed around the room and saw he was alone. 

Some of the more seriousness of last night started to filter through the ecstasy of finally getting dicked-down by the man he’d been pursuing for what felt like an eternity. 

It was true, Geralt was a Reaper. There was no other explanation for it. Jaskier  _ clearly _ saw the hole blow through Geralt’s chest as the bullet was fired, he saw the blood spatter out. Then, there was nothing. There was no other possibility. Geralt was a Reaper. And Jaskier was supposed to have died, not just once, but numerous times. Someone wanted Jaskier dead and they weren’t giving up, and Geralt was protecting him. 

A shuddering breath escaped Jaskier. 

If they were going to be together, he knew they had a difficult conversation ahead of them. Part of it scared him. He knew that in the end he would have to die. Sure, he joked about dying before but to seriously actually literally die? 

“That’s… heavy,” he whispered to himself as he considered everything. Well, maybe he wouldn’t have to die. Maybe Geralt could work something out, keep him alive, and they could stay together for decades. But would Geralt still want him when he ages past-- That was all stuff that they needed to talk about. Best not get ahead of himself. 

Jaskier rubbed the back of his neck and crawled out of bed. Groaning, he grabbed his underwear and slowly pulled them up, feeling each stiff muscle straining against the movements. Tender. Tender, tender. Wow, he really probably should start working out if he was going to be this sore after just one night of sex. Maybe Geralt could train him. He’s got that home gym, after all. 

A dull buzzing sound startled him and he looked around the room trying to find its origin. There. His pants. His phone was vibrating like crazy in the pocket. Grabbing it, he looked at the screen and saw it was Triss calling, and that she had called him upwards of forty times over the night. Guilt settled in his gut like a bad microwave burrito so answered the phone. 

“Triss! It’s--”

“JULIAN PANKRATZ WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU, DO YOU EVEN HAVE ANY IDEA HOW WORRIED I HAVE BEEN---” she was absolutely screaming into the phone. Holding the phone at arms length away, Jaskier let her get it out before he touched it back to his ear once more. 

“Triss, take a breath for a second, I can explain--”

“You jump in front of a gunman and I hear a gunshot and you’re screaming and then you disappear! What the hell do you think is going to be a good enough explanation for this??”

“Triss, please. Breathe for me,”

“I thought you were dead!!”

“I’m not dead. I’m alright. Geralt happened to show up to talk and he got me out of there. I’m safe. I’m at his house, and everything’s okay.”

Triss didn’t respond but he could hear her crying over the phone. 

“I’m very sorry to have scared you; I’ll make it up to you, I promise, Triss.”

“... You better,” she sniffled softly. He heard her hiccup and blow her nose. “Or I’ll kick your ass myself.”

Chuckling softly, Jaskier shook his head. 

“I’ll gladly present my ass to you myself to kick.”

“Fine.... You sure you’re okay?

“I promise you. I’m quite well.”

“Alright… I love you, Jasky,”

“I love you too, Triss. Now, I gotta go but I swear I’ll be in touch, okay? Alright.” 

Jaskier hung up and knew he had some serious apologizing to do. Sniffing, he set his phone down on the night stand by the bed, took a couple moments to stretch and scratch his bare belly which was dotted with love marks, before he let his feet lead him out of the room and down the hall to the stairs. 

Roach meowed at him from the banister and Jaskier scooped her into his arms. 

“Good morning, snuggwy-wups. How’s the widdle bozerbeans today?” he nuzzled his nose into her head and she meowed in response, bumping her head up into his. 

Careful with each step, Jaskier passed the stairs and headed for the door that the last time he was here was locked. Today, however, it was cracked open and behind it, he could hear Geralt urgently and, almost desperately, speaking softly to someone though there was no other reply. He must be on the phone. Part of him wanted to give Geralt his privacy, to not eavesdrop and to go maybe sort out breakfast. Yeah, that was the right thing to do, he told himself as he turned away and stepped toward the stairs again. Then…

“I know that Death is non-transferrable, but I’m not asking for her death date to be changed. I’m just asking you to take the reap for me. I can’t--” 

Jaskier paused, interest piqued. He stepped back and leaned against the wall. 

“This isn’t a ‘take your boyfriend to work’ day kind of situation, Yennefer. He doesn’t need--”

A pause. A heavy sigh. 

“Yes, you’ve said that before.”

Another pause. 

“It’s just one reap, Yen. I will owe you anything.”

A short pause and Geralt snapped back.

“I will owe you anything but that,” Geralt snarled, the sound making Jaskier feel like his underwear were suddenly a little too tight. He squirmed and shimmied his hips, trying to readjust without letting go of the cat that was snuggled up in his arms. 

“Just one time. Once won’t--”

Roach suddenly leaped from Jaskier’s arms and her bell jingled when she landed before she trotted into the room and meowed loudly, interrupting Geralt. Jaskier moved to rush away from the door but then the door opened and Geralt was there, the phone pressed to his ear, with an irritated expression on his face. 

“Fine,” he pulled the phone away and tapped the end call button, lowering it to tuck it into his pocket. 

“Good morning?” Jaskier said with a wave of his hand and a nervous grin. Sighing, Geralt gave a soft but distant smile as he reached up and pulled Jaskier into his arms. He lowered his head and kissed him sweetly, running a hand soothingly over Jaskier’s shoulders. 

“Good morning,” he hummed when they parted. 

“Is everything alright? Didn’t sound like too fun a conversation,” Jaskier tilted his head and gazed up at Geralt with concern. 

“It wasn’t,” Geralt hooked his arm around Jaskier’s shoulder and guided him to the stairs then down into the dining room where there were already plates laid out and serving dishes full of breakfast food. How had Jaskier not smelled it until now? 

“Oh, wow! Geralt, you sure know how to spoil a lover,” Jaskier cheered as he rushed toward the table and started just grabbing food out of the dishes and plopping it onto a free plate. At least he was being evolved and opted to use silverware. Geralt chuckled as he moved around the table and sat beside him. 

The food was amazing! Each bite of scrambled eggs was fluffy and buttery, with just the right sort of soft yet firm texture. The bacon was crispy in all the meaty spots and yet chewy in the fatty sections, the toast was perfectly buttered and toasted enough to be crunchy but not burned. Fresh fruit sat in the bowl nearby and Jaskier helped himself to the most crisp grapes and sweet strawberries and crunchy apple slices he’d ever had. 

“You sure I didn’t die yesterday and wake in heaven today?” he asked through a full mouth. He heard Geralt laugh beside him softly, a gentle chuckle that was so signature to Geralt by now, before he turned and gazed at the man he loved. 

“So…” Jaskier started after the two had enough time to eat at least half of their meal, “what was that all about?... With Yen?” Jaskier gestured at the phone that Geralt set on the table when he sat down. 

“It’s nothing.”

“You can tell me. Reaper business, I assume? You said something about someone’s death date. Is someone supposed to die today?”

Geralt’s eyes snapped up and he stared at Jaskier with an unreadable expression. Expectantly, Jaskier gazed back but when Geralt was clearly not going to answer, Jaskier sighed. 

“Geralt… I don’t want our relationship to be based on dishonesty, keeping each other in the dark. You can tell me--”

“I don’t want to scare you away. My life is… complicated.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier reached a hand to take Geralt’s with a smile. “I’m not going anywhere. You know me, you can’t get rid of me. You’d think the last few weeks would be indicative of that.”

Chuckling softly, Geralt lifted Jaskier’s hand and nuzzled his face into the palm. He inhaled slowly and closed his eyes. When his eyes finally opened, they paradoxically looked aged and guarded while looking young and vulnerable. Taking another breath, Geralt lowered Jaskier’s hand. 

“Yes. A woman is supposed to die today. I am supposed to reap her soul,” he said slowly, watching Jaskier closely. 

“How do you do that? Reap a soul, then?” 

Turning to grab his cup of coffee (yes, Jaskier made a fuss when Geralt used his single cup coffee brewer to make just plain black coffee), Geralt sipped slowly at it. Though he was impatient and curious to learn, Jaskier stayed quiet. His knee bounced eagerly though.

“When a person’s death date comes up, word comes down from upper management. We, the reapers, are given a name, a location, and a time. The reaper assigned the death then travels to that place and finds the person, and with the Reaper’s Touch, their soul is released. Then, whatever happens to them, happens. Old age, accident, murder. Their soul, having been released, is then free to cross over to the other side.”

“And, how--”

“It’s a power reapers have. At will, with just the touch of the hand,” Geralt slowly ran his fingers in a soft caress down Jaskier’s face from his temple to his jaw, “the soul is released. We then escort the soul to the other side.”

Swallowing hard, Jaskier shivered. 

“That wasn’t--”

“No, Jaskier,” he laughed softly, “like I said, it’s at will. Any other touch is innocuous.”

“Was my soul released before? Am I soulless?” 

“Yes to the first, no to the second. You’re not soulless. Though your soul was released, you didn’t die, so it stayed within you. It’s not something that happens frequently. Really rare, actually.”

Picking up his fork and twirling it, Jaskier looked at his plate. A rarity? Well, that was the best description of him, definitely. Chewing his lip, he contemplated what to ask next out of the slew of questions that flooded his mind. 

“So… What’s on the other side, then? Heaven? Hell? Something completely different or…”

“I don’t know. When I died, I didn’t get to go to the other side. I became a reaper. And no, before you ask, I didn’t choose this life.”

Roach chirped at the two as she hopped up onto the table and paced toward the food, but Geralt intercepted her and pulled her into his lap. Jaskier sipped his own coffee, a drink that was more cream and sugar than actual coffee. He wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to ask next. Does he ask about the hierarchy of death, of reapers and ‘upper management’ and all that, or does he ask about his own mortality? Maybe he should ask about--

“Yen’s a reaper too,” Geralt continued unprompted, “she’s actually yours. That’s why she doesn’t like that we’re together. I frustrate her by interfering with your death, but like I said last night - I can’t let you die.”

“No wonder she doesn’t like me.”

“Mmm. More like she is very frustrated with me.”

“So, then, the first time I was supposed to die, how did you know?”  
“I saw her memo of your death and--”

“No, I mean… How to word this,” Jaskier put his chin in his hand. “I hadn’t met you yet, nor you I, so how did you know that if you saved me, we’d fall in love? Or did you just chance it? Was I just that lucky human and it turned out to be the best decision of your un-life?” There was a teasing smile at the end of his question, his hand moving to shake Geralt’s knee. With a sheepish grin, Geralt ducked his head. 

“I knew of you. After a reap, a few months ago, I walked through the park and heard you playing. It was the most beautiful music I’d ever heard in my life and I stopped to listen. Every day since then, I’d stopped to listen to you when you were playing. Those moments were the only light in my life and I couldn’t stay away, even though I knew what a danger it was. And then your name came up on Yen’s memo and all I could think was, ‘Not him’. The world couldn’t possibly exist without you in it. So, I followed her to the subway, I watched her brush her hand against your back as the crowd jostled you. You probably just ignored it, chalked it up to the masses milling about against each other. And then I saw you get shoved. The second you landed on the tracks, I couldn’t stop myself. And then I tried to get the hell away from you because I knew what trouble I was in but you just kept following me. Your name kept coming up and I kept trying to stay away but I just couldn’t. I just couldn’t.”

“Good! Gah, imagine how awful the world would be without my delightful face and luscious hair, not to mention my delectable singing voice,” Jaskier ran a hand through his hair and Geralt blinked a couple times before rolling his eyes and scoffing. 

“No, not at all full of yourself, are you?”

“Not one bit.”

A few moments went by with Geralt slowly running his hand down Roach’s head and back while Jaskier swirled his coffee in circles. 

“The world would be a tragedy without you,” Geralt spoke up after a few moments, his golden eyes glancing at Jaskier with a bittersweet softness. “So long as I can help it, I won’t allow it to experience such a thing.”

“Thank you,” reaching over, Jaskier took Geralt’s hand and squeezed it. Roach let out a soft  _ mrrp _ before she hopped out of Geralt’s lap and Jaskier took the opportunity to lean in and kiss him sweetly. 

“So. You said last night you’re already dead, and you said today that when you died, you became a reaper. How did you die, Geralt?”

The expression on his face as Jaskier leaned back told him it might not be the right time for the story. 

“I have to go. The reap is in less than an hour. You’ll be fine here until I come back, right?” Geralt let Roach down onto the ground before he stood up and dusted himself off. Without another word, he turned and started out of the dining room. 

“Woah, woah, stay here? I don’t think so,” Jaskier shot up out of the chair and followed quickly. “I’m going with you! I want to see this mysterious life of--”

“No. You aren’t even supposed to know of it nor of my existence. I will not allow you to--”

“Come on, Geralt. Remember what I’d said? No lies or omissions in the relationship?”

“I’m not lying nor omitting anything. I’m protecting you from--”

“From what? Has my name come up today?”

Turning, Geralt stared Jaskier down with a hard stern gaze. His jaw worked and Jaskier knew he was winning the argument. 

“Yeah, well, that’s what I thought then. If my name isn’t up today, then there’s nothing to protect me from is there? Please, Geralt. I’ll be quiet, I won’t say a thing or interfere. Just the silent observer in the corner. A fly on the wall, if you will.”

Geralt huffed. 

“You? Silent? Now that I’d pay to see,” he rumbled as he turned and padded up the stairs and turned to the left. Jaskier’s mouth gaped and he tried to look as offended as possible, but Geralt disappeared into the room again. Quick as he could, Jaskier ran to the bedroom and grabbed his slacks and polo. He didn’t much want to be out and about in his work uniform with his boyfriend but he hadn’t any other clothes to change into. Maybe he could talk Geralt into taking him to his apartment to change before the reap. Or after. Whatever was most convenient. 

Hurriedly, he put the clothes on and grabbed his shoes before rushing out of the room. It had occurred to him that they didn’t take the time to take their shoes off in the foyer last night the way they had the first night Jaskier was here, that they had just rushed up stairs in Jaskier’s panic, so he opted to not put the shoes on until they were near the door out of respect for Geralt’s unspoken no shoes rule. When he reached the top of the stairs, he saw Geralt shrugging on his signature trench coat and grabbing the door knob. 

“Wait! Geralt, I’m coming!” 

Geralt didn’t reply but rather opened the door and stepped out. So Jaskier did what any other person would do. He mounted the banister and slid down it, hopping off just as he reached the end, and caught the door before it fully closed. 

“Goh, I’ve always wanted to do that,” he half-chuckled to himself before stepping out. The door clicked behind him and he reached the sports car just as Geralt was turning the engine over. 

“Right then. Let’s go,” he slid into the passenger seat effortlessly. 

“I thought I’d said to stay put,” Geralt said in a low tone. 

“You had, you’re correct. However, I’ve chosen to come with you. I won’t get in the way,” Jaskier buckled up and leaned forward to start lacing his shoes up. He only just now realized he hadn’t grabbed socks. Oh well. He hadn’t noticed the way Geralt rolled his eyes as he started forward but he definitely caught the way his knuckles clenched the wheel and the way his lips were tightly pressed together. 

“So how does all this work then? You get a name and location and time, how do you know who it is? Do you know how they die? What happens after they die? Oh! What if you didn’t show up and--”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said in a warning tone. Jaskier took the hint. To mitigate the awkward silence, he leaned to the radio and turned it on. The Andrews Sisters began playing and Jaskier grinned, leaned back, and began harmonizing with their vocals. 

“ _ He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way, he had a boogie style that no one else could play, he was the top man at his craft but then his number came up and he was gone with the draft,”  _

At the lyric ‘draft’, he heard Geralt scoff sarcastically. One of Jaskier’s brows popped up and he glanced at Geralt from the side of his eye. Likes big band and jazz music, and apparently has thoughts on the draft. 

“Were you a soldier?” Jaskier turned the music down just as it reached the instrumental break. Geralt inhaled sharply, the speed of the vehicle increasing. “An armyman killed in action, perhaps? I wonder, the pacific front or the European front? You seem more a European front type a guy, but you never know, you may have gone to the west to fight--”

Geralt slammed the brakes, making Jaskier jerk forward in the seat, parked the car, and turned to clap a hand over Jaskier’s mouth. So many emotions swam in his eyes but he hadn’t once made eye contact with Jaskier as he processed them. His mouth worked like he was searching for the words to say but instead of speaking, he just pressed his lips together into a fine line and pulled back. Then, he got out of the car and started pacing toward the mall that Jaskier only just now noticed they’d arrived at. Right, he thought. Touchy subject. He supposes he should drop it for the time being. 

Exiting the car, he followed Geralt into the mall with ease. The white hair and black suit wasn’t too hard to pick out of the crowd and he was able to follow him down the pathway and to a bench near an escalator. There the two sat down and started to people-watch. Geralt remained silent still while Jaskier slowly wove his fingers through Geralt’s and held his hand. 

“I’m sorry, by the way,” Jaskier murmured. It earned him a soft hum and the squeeze of his hand. “So… What now?”

“We wait.” 

“Wait for… the lady?”

“Yes,” Geralt’s voice was very soft and low, hard for Jaskier to catch over the chatter of the crowd of shoppers around them. 

“How do you know who she is?” 

“I don’t.”

“You don’t… They don’t tell you? Like, short with blonde hair, or tall and athletic, maybe older, tubby, or young with a braid, a student, a doctor, a--”

“We’re not told because we don’t need to know.”

Frowning, Jaskier looked at the women in the passersby. Who could it be? Maybe that little girl who danced too far away from her mother toward the escalator. Or the older woman who very slowly shuffled by looking like she was about to keel over. Maybe it was the woman who sat across from them struggling to catch her breath. 

Geralt checked his watch. 

“Is it---”

“Three more minutes,” Geralt replied softly. His golden eyes were highly attentive, glancing from face to face. Jaskier watched with growing curiosity. One of his knees started bouncing with all the excited energy Jaskier couldn’t expend otherwise. 

“Mrs. Hansen! Oh, my gosh! It’s me, Danielle Mays!” a girl who looked about high school age called out nearby and rushed forward to wrap her arms around a woman who appeared to be in her late sixties. 

“There’s no way that’s little Danielle Mays, why look how much you’ve grown! I can’t believe it,” the woman cheered and laughed, hugging the girl back. “What are you now, fifteen?” 

“I’m almost seventeen, Mrs. Hansen,” the girl laughed, “it’s been seven years. I’m a junior in high school now!” 

“Impossible! You were just in my gym the other day, weren’t you?”

The girl, Danielle, laughed and shook her head. 

“No, Mrs. Hansen.”

“Tell me, do you still play volleyball? I have never seen such a serve on a child until you came along.” 

“Yeah! I’m actually the team captain and we’re about to go to regionals next week! I have you to thank for it, really. Are you still teaching PE gym class?” 

“Yes, though next year is my retirement. I’m too old for teaching phys ed anymore and my husband and I have travel plans. Finally going to get to see the world!”

“That’s awesome! Where are you going?”

“All sorts of places, dear. All sorts. I’ve never been out of the state, but we’re going on cross country road trips, and even going to fly out of the country too.”

“That’s so cool, Mrs. Hansen. 

Geralt sighed softly next to Jaskier and nudged him. 

“It’s time. You stay right here. I will swing back around to get you. Do not leave the bench for any reason, act natural, and don’t get involved. Understood?” he rumbled in a low voice and stood up before Jaskier could reply. Heart absolutely pounding in his chest, Jaskier nodded and folded his hands in his lap. Walking in the direction of the two, Geralt looked every bit a nondescript shopper who was just trying to make his way through the crowd. 

“Yeah, I’m just here with my family. My sister needs new shoes and I was supposed to meet them in the food court, but I had to stop and say hi!”

“Well I’m glad you did, dear. What a treat! I must say I am so very proud of you. You keep up the good work. I’m sure I’ll be reading about all your success soon, I bet you’ll even go to the olympics!” 

“That would be super cool, Mrs. Hansen!”

Geralt’s hand reached out as he bumped into the two and feigned concern. 

“Oh, ladies, I am so sorry. I should really watch where I’m going,” he apologized sweetly, resting a hand on each lady’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay! It’s really busy in here--”

“No, no, quite alright darling, we probably shouldn’t be in the way anyway and--”

“No worries, sir!”

The two women smiled and laughed it off as Geralt turned to walk away. Jaskier was watching closely for the Reaper’s Touch but he must have missed it because Geralt’s hands left both ladies immediately and he was on his way in the opposite direction. Confusion crossed Jaskier’s face. 

“I should probably go, Mrs. Hansen, my family is waiting for me,” the girl started walking backwards away from the teacher. 

“Of course, of course. It was great seeing you again, you keep up the hard work and-- Danielle, look out!!” 

Danielle shrieked as her foot hit the stair of the escalator and she tumbled down it backwards. Jaskier watched in horror as the girl fell down the stairs rapidly and landed at the bottom of the escalator, completely still. People started screaming and running to help while Mrs. Hansen stood at the top of the stairs with her mouth in her hands crying. Jaskier noticed across the way that Geralt was tucked against a wall and seemed to be speaking to empty air. 

Jaskier stood up. He leaned over the railing of the balcony to watch people hurriedly rushing around the girl, pulling her away from the moving stairs and starting compressions, but Jaskier knew it was too late. His stomach rolled and he turned away. 

She was just seventeen, hadn’t she said? Just a teenager. A child. Now she was dead. A whole life ahead of her and now she was dead. What the fuck kind of world was this?

Shock flooded his system and he sank back into the bench. His eyes found Geralt and saw that he had a hand out and had turned toward a staff only hallway of the mall. He walked halfway down the hall, let his hand fall, and then tucked his hands into the pockets of his trench while staring at the far wall for a few moments. Then, he turned and started walking back toward Jaskier. 

“Let’s go home,” Geralt said softly when he reached Jaskier, offering his arm. “Quickly now.”

Hands trembling, Jaskier took the arm and pulled himself up, supporting himself more than not as the two made their way out of the mall, past the paramedics who had arrived, and toward the white sports car parked toward the back of the lot. 

“Breathe, Jaskier,” Geralt commanded as he helped him into the car. 

“You did that. You killed that girl,” Jaskier replied. He caught a glance of his reflection in the passenger rear view mirror and saw he was completely pale. 

“I did my job.” 

“She was just a child, Geralt! She--”

“It was her time, Jaskier. As it had been yours at the tracks, as it had been Yennefer’s in that hotel room, as it had been mine on that godforsaken island, and as it had been millions of others, as it will eventually be everyone’s.”

“But you killed her. Right in front of me, you killed her.”

“I didn’t kill her, I released her soul. Don’t worry. She didn’t feel it.”

Breathing heavily, Jaskier let Geralt buckle him in and waited until he got into the driver's seat and pulled the car away. 

“How do you mean, she didn’t feel it? I watched her tumble down those stairs. They’re metal and sharp, jagged. She probably broke bones and cut herself up doing that and--”

“When the soul is released prior to death, it doesn’t feel pain any longer. It remains intact, it doesn’t sustain any damage. That’s why it is so vitally important for us to release the soul prior to death.”

Still shaking, Jaskier held to the seatbelt. 

“She was just a child,” he murmured. 

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you save her too? Like you did me.”

“Because I’m breaking all of the rules over you, Jaskier. I can’t save everyone, otherwise chaos would ensue. Nature would revolt and reality would snap. Death is part of life, and it is my job to aid in it,” there was a pause for a second as Geralt turned a corner, then he glanced at Jaskier and spoke so softly he hardly heard him, “I didn’t choose to be this.”

Jaskier was quiet again and Geralt let him be, which he was thankful for. He needed a moment to process this. It wasn’t until they reached Geralt’s street that Jaskier spoke again. 

“After you walked away, I saw you by the wall talking to thin air,” he said slowly. 

“I was speaking to Danielle.”

“What? I didn’t see--”

“You wouldn’t have. It was her soul. As courtesy, we Reapers are there to usher the recently deceased to the other side.”

A pause of silence as Geralt pulled into the driveway. 

“What were you saying to her?” Jaskier asked. Geralt cut the engine and sighed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I was distracting her. She was scared, like they always are, so I distracted her by asking about her volleyball. Then, when the Lights presented themselves, I talked her into checking them out. She went forward and… Off to the Other Side.”

“Lights?”

Geralt didn’t answer. Instead, he opened the door and started making his way back to the house. 

“I’ve got to break you of this, honestly,” Jaskier murmured as he unbuckled and hurried out of the car. “Geralt!”

Inside, he saw Geralt heading up the stairs having already taken his shoes off, so Jaskier quickly kicked his own off and took the stairs two at a time. He still had a thousand questions burning in his mind as he reached Geralt’s door and pushed it open. 

“Geralt, I just--”

Suddenly, Geralt’s lips were on his and Jaskier’s mind completely and utterly fritzed. What was he talking about? He had no idea. There were more important things to be worrying about. Maybe he’d remember later. For now, Geralt’s hands were moving under his polo on his body and literally nothing else mattered other than the warm touch and the tender kiss. He’d backed Jaskier up and slowly laid him onto the bed where he pushed the shirt to his chest and pressed his lips to the bare skin exposed there. His fingers trailed up and down Jaskier’s torso as if he were trying to memorize every single shape of it, up the soft lines of his hip bones and over the lean length of his belly, drawing goosebumps up along his skin and leaving trails of fire behind with each touch. 

“You’re not getting out of it that easily,” Jaskier murmured, but Geralt only hummed in response. His lips continued to brush every inch of skin they could. There were a couple of spots that tickled but otherwise the attention felt quite amazing to Jaskier. Sighing, he relaxed back into the bed enjoying the way Geralt was worshipping him. 

Geralt’s fingers had made their way to his waistband and they unbuttoned and unzipped the slacks before shimmying them down Jaskier’s body. Then they began sliding up Jaskier’s legs and thighs, over his underwear, and back up to his chest. Warm breath curling out of Geralt’s nose only worked to draw more goosebumps up Jaskier’s skin and he couldn’t help but grin and watch Geralt making his way back up his torso. His lips found one of Jaskier’s nipples, teasing it and rolling his tongue over it, drawing out a soft sigh from Jaskier.

The polo fell back down a little when Jaskier tipped his head back so he sat up a little more and wrenched the fabric off, letting it flop to the floor, forgotten the moment it left his fingers. 

“That feels amazin’,” Jaskier purred softly. Geralt turned to the other nipple, giving it ample attention as his thumbs hook into the elastic of Jaskier’s underwear. One hand scooped under Jaskier’s hips, lifting them, while the other drew the underwear down his legs. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Geralt murmured against Jaskier’s chest, “So beautiful.”

“I’m quite aware,” Jaskier teased. It earned him a playful nip as Geralt bit briefly into the skin of his ribs. Laughing, Jaskier jerked away from Geralt’s lips, “Alright, alright, you’re beautiful too, damn!” 

A low rumbling laugh escaped Geralt before he started teasing his lips down Jaskier’s belly, following the soft wispy hair that trailed down the center of his lower abdomen to his groin. He nipped and kissed at the sensitive skin on the inside of Jaskier’s thighs. The left one. Then, the right one. 

Closing his eyes and rocking his head back, Jaskier stretched his arms up under the pillows above him then folded them under his head. His eyes closed when Geralt slowly drew his tongue up Jaskier’s shaft and teased it slowly in languid circles around the tip. The warmth of Geralt’s tongue is beyond welcomed. He swirled it around the tip before continuing to lick deliberately up and down the shaft, an almost painfully slow gesture back and forth, and back and forth again.   
Jaskier whined impatiently and it earned him a questioning expression. A second went by before Geralt meticulously took Jaskier’s tip between his lips and slid it deep into his mouth. The warm wet slick of his saliva made Jaskier draw in a sharp breath. His cock twitched downward into Geralt’s tongue and Jaskier shuddered a breath out to feel the back of Geralt’s throat. He let out an ecstatic moan. 

Geralt began a torturously slow pace bobbing up and down, drawing Jaskier as far in as he could manage before pulling back out to pulse his tongue against the tip. It was such a beautiful sight to Jaskier. Geralt’s eyes were soft, focused, his lips wrapped tightly around his cock forming an airtight seal and creating a soft suction as he pulled out, his hand resting on the base of his shaft with the other holding to Jaskier’s hip. 

Caressing his hand over Geralt’s cheek again and again, Jaskier moved to grip the back of his head. He started to guide Geralt’s head, his hips twitching upward as he made Geralt move faster. Part of him was a little surprised that Geralt let him take control like this but really, it just turned him on more. They found a rhythm soon that had Jaskier panting heavily, his muscles starting to tighten and his climax building. He was getting so close. 

“I’m--” he started but Geralt quickly pulled back, Jaskier’s cock coming out of his mouth with a staccato  _ pop _ . Staring up at him in confusion, the saliva on his length meeting the cold air effectively killing his orgasm, Jaskier scoffed. 

“What was that? I was--”

Geralt only gave a mischievous expression in reply. Mouth agape, Jaskier was prepared to say something but Geralt’s lips were there distracting him again, kissing him senseless. It only dawned on him now that Geralt was still dressed - the silk of his button up shirt soft against his chest, the cotton of his slacks providing  _ just _ enough friction against his cock to keep it up.  _ Just  _ enough friction to be nowhere near enough friction. He thrust his hips upward with a grunt and Geralt paused mid-kiss to look at him with heavy lidded and confused eyes. 

“You’re teasing me,” Jaskier accused softly. 

“Maybe I am,” Geralt chuckled in a low rumbling tone. “Is it working?”

“I don’t know, is it? You know, Geralt. I think...” Gripping Geralt’s ass firmly, he leaned in and whispered, “ _ I’m  _ doing the fucking tonight,” into Geralt’s ear before he shimmied out from under Geralt and pushed hard on his back. Though it was barely enough to make him move, Geralt took the hint and laid on his belly. Jaskier quickly darted to the nightstand drawer and grabbed the lube and a condom before he settled himself between Geralt’s legs, dug his hands under Geralt’s hips to work his pants open, and yanked them down with his underwear to his ankles. 

Geralt turned his head and watched with a curious expression as Jaskier drew a line of cold clear lube up the line between two fingers that were pressed together. 

“What are you--”

Jaskier pushed Geralt’s cheeks apart and slicked the lube along the tight ring of muscle of Geralt’s entrance. It made him suck a hard breath in and twitch back. The reaction only made Jaskier’s cock twitch with heavy want.

“Cold.” 

“Sorry,” Jaskier continued to massage the gel. He made slow circles, taunting with the occasional short pulse of increased pressure. Feeling Geralt relax under his touch, he finally slid a single finger in. Geralt let out a soft sigh and Jaskier started working him over, pumping his finger in and out then pressed a second and then third finger in. He watched Geralt’s expressions closely as he scissored his fingers. Hearing his heavier breathing, feeling the way he rolled his hips up into his palm, made Jaskier’s cock harder than ever. He grew impatient. 

Pulling his fingers out, he drew the condom up his shaft and pressed the tip to Geralt’s entrance, pressing in firmly and feeling how  _ warm and tight _ Geralt was. He couldn’t help letting out a low moan. His hands smoothed up and down Geralt’s thighs and he closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of being so deep inside his reaper. 

A thought nagged in the back of his mind about that again, though, and he opened his eyes, gazing down at the hard muscle lines of Geralt’s back. It was that heavy morbid feeling again and the same thought settled in his head that has been settling and repeating over and over again day in and day out - He should be dead. That train should have destroyed him and now--

“Why’ve you stopped?” Geralt whispered. To punctuate it, his muscles tightened around Jaskier making him gasp softly. 

“I don’t… I dunno,” Jaskier blinked before making eye contact. 

“Aren’t you going to fuck me then?” With another roll of his hips and clench of his muscles, Geralt succeeded in distracting Jaskier, pulling him from sinking into that mindset and back into the moment. Grinning an excited smirk, Jaskier started in. 

“That’s… what I thought,” Geralt panted. 

Jaskier didn’t waste any time finding a firm and quick pace, snapping his hips back and forth, and savoring everything about this. Geralt’s breathy pants, the warmth surrounding him, the pleasure that pulsed up his body with each thrust. 

Leaning down, he gripped Geralt’s head to turn it and kissed him messily as he rutted him into the bed. His tongue dipped in and he sucked on Geralt’s lips. When their lips parted, he moaned heavily.

“Harder, Jaskier,” Geralt murmured, and Jaskier was happy to oblige. Drawing back, he adjusted himself to give more power in his thrusts, pumping harder with increased effort. He grunted and panted heavily, feeling the building of his climax already starting in. 

Suddenly, Geralt’s hands snapped up and pressed to the headboard and he let out a pleasured moan that damn near sent Jaskier over. 

“Fuck!... Jas… Jaskier…”

They were some of the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard in his life, Geralt moaning his name in pleasure as he fucked into him harder and faster. Better than his guitar, better than his singing, better than anything he could think of. Just as he was about to ask to hear it again, Geralt let out another moan before sucking a sharp breath in. There. Jaskier felt his orgasm. Felt the way the muscles tightened and snapped together. 

Letting out a soft warbling moan, he joined Geralt and came hard. His hips moved in a disjointed rhythm while he rode it out, his body riding absolutely high off the climax. Unable to keep himself upright anymore, his thighs trembling violently, he slid out of Geralt and flopped down on top of his back a hot, sweaty, panting mess. 

“Oh, that was good. That was real good,” he managed. A low laugh escaped Geralt and he shifted, rolling over and catching Jaskier to hold in his arms. “Still not… getting out of our lil talk.”

Heaving an over exaggerated sigh, Geralt peppered soft kisses into Jaskier’s hair. 

“Oh well. I tried.”

“You did. Job well done, its the thought that counts, the effort put forth and all that jazz,” Jaskier purred as he cuddled in. He glanced over to see the mess left on the sheets and snickered. “We’ll have to do laundry.”

Geralt lifted his head and looked at the stains. 

“These bed sheets are well over two thousand dollars, you know?”

“Yikes,” Jaskier drew his lips back in a cringing expression but then Geralt laughed heartily and squeezed him into a tight hug. 

“Doesn’t matter. It was worth it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, just an update - still havent heard back on the interview. lately my mental health has been on the fritz and im struggling to get back into the flow of writing. I fully intend on finishing the fic, i have it all planned out. its just a matter of getting back on the creative horse and finding my muses again. As always, im beyond thankful to have you all still sticking around with me here on this crazy ride and I hope you're all still enjoying this <3
> 
> much love, alyss


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gah its about time I posted, right?

One week later, Jaskier found himself back at work with Triss chugging along beside him. Everything he found out about Geralt was still rattling about in his head but before he’d left Geralt’s home, he’d made him promise to keep it between them only. That included never telling Triss. Despite her being his best friend, and it killing him to not tell her everything about his reaper boyfriend, he bit his tongue. Jaskier had a feeling she knew he was hiding things from her and assumed that was the reason she had hardly said one word to him through the shift other than order instructions and action demands. 

“So… how was your weekend then?” Jaskier stepped over to her during a lull in the customers, leaned against the counter, and rolled a towel over his hands while she scrubbed furiously at the spilled espresso grindings. 

“Fine,” her response was curt; she didn’t even make eye contact. Frowning, Jaskier nudged her with an elbow. 

“Just fine? Nothin’ spectacular or--”

“I said fine, Jaskier,” she snapped, turning to stare hard at him before she returned to swiping her towel against the counter to brush the grindings to the floor. “Get me a mop.”

Reaching, Jaskier put a hand on her shoulder. 

“Hey… What’s going on Triss, talk to me. Are you alright?” he asked seriously. Concern colored his eyes as he saw the fatigue in hers. 

“I’m fine, Jaskier. Where’s my mop?”

Rolling his bottom lip in between his teeth, Jaskier eyed her hard before heaving a loud sigh and turning to grab the mop from around the corner. 

“Something's bothering you, Triss,” he commented. The mop plopped onto the floor and he pushed the fibers back and forth. 

“It’s nothing. Just drop it.”

“Doesn’t seem like it’s nothing,” Jaskier countered, “it’s obviously eating at you and--”

“I said drop it,” her voice was warning.

“You wouldn’t drop it if it were me, now, would you?”

“But it isn’t you, so let it go.”

“Mmm, no, I don’t think I will,” he grinned cheekily, pushing the mop to nudge her foot and she made an angry noise. In one swift movement, she snatched the mop away from him and pushed him out of the way to finish the job herself. 

“Listen, no need to be a bitch about all it, I’ll drop it, then,” Jaskier put his hands up and stepped back. He turned, moving to step to the back of the house when he felt her hand on his shoulder. An apologetic look was on her face. 

“I’m--... Jaskier, I’m sorry. It’s just…” she sighed, turning to flop against the counter. Her hands came up and she rubbed her fingers into her eyes. 

“Talk to me, what’s going on? You’re never like this,” Jaskier leaned against the counter next to her. One of the other employees was stepping up to speak to them but he waved them off, not even letting his eyes leave his friend. 

“I had to take in my step-sister this past week,” Triss’s hands pressed into her temples before they moved to clasp around the back of her neck. “There’s a lot of complicated shit going on and she’s… well, for lack of a more appropriate descriptor, she’s a fucking handful, and I was so not ready to handle it all. I don’t think I’ve slept in well over seventy two hours and--”

“Why are you here then? Go home, get some rest! Come on, Triss,” Jaskier gestured at the store, “We can handle a day or two without you.”

“No no, I need to be here. Just like, 8 hours out of the house is…”

Nodding, Jaskier just put his arm around Triss and pulled her in for a hug. Shuddering against him, Triss took a few short breaths before pulling away, swiping at her eyes, and putting her hands on her hips. 

“So. Enough about me. How are things going with Dreamboat?” She tried to forcibly change the subject which made Jaskier roll his eyes. 

“That’s not fair. I talk all the time about him, and us, why can’t you talk about you?”

“Sweet as that is Jasky, I really don’t want to talk about it. I want work to be work and home to be home and--”

“Talk to meeeeee. Get it off your chest. You’ll feel better. Like vomiting after a bad night of drinking,” he said with a flourish of his hand and a wink. It made her roll her eyes (he immediately pictured Geralt) and scoff. 

“What if I don’t want to talk about it?”

Jaskier lowered his head and gazed at her from under his eyebrows. A look that said ‘really?’, in a sarcastic tone. Rolling her eyes again, she actually laughed. 

“Fine. Alright. You’re right. Buckle in, buttercup. So basically--”

Jaskier listened to her rambling and ranting on and on about her sister, the ‘don’t get her wrong she loves her but’s and the ‘sometimes she wishes she could just see what she was thinking’s and of course the ‘and she’s not blaming her at all’s. He hummed and ahhed at all the right spots, encouraging Triss to let it all out, and by the time she was done, he noticed that she seemed closer to normal than before. 

“Oh wow,” Triss sighed after her lengthy monologue was done, “That did feel good.”

“See? What did I say? Who’s always right?” 

Rolling her eyes again, she pushed off the counter and started walking away but Jaskier stuck his foot out to block her way. 

“Who’s always riiiiiight?” he almost sang at her. 

“You are,” she mockingly bowed at him and he swaggled his head. 

“Damn right I am.”

“Excuse me, but might I get some service please?” A male voice behind them said gently and the blood drained from Jaskier’s face. Triss looked behind him at the customer. 

“Yep, be right there,” she called around Jaskier before nudging him. “Come on then!”

Frozen in place, Jaskier couldn’t even find the muscles to take a breath. There was no way. This couldn’t possibly be happening. Not here. Not now. Not like this. 

“Hey. Come on, you’re up. What, did you blue screen on me?” Triss nudged him again, looking at him with half concerned half joking eyes. He could only reply with fear filled eyes staring at her almost begging. If only there were a way she could just read his mind.

“Is he quite alright then?” the customer asked and Jaskier swallowed hard. 

“Hey, Jasky,” Triss reached her hand toward him but then he just turned and stared at the man standing on the other side of the counter. He was taller than Jaskier, with light brown, almost blonde, hair that was short and neatly styled. A soft smile puckered the freckled cheeks up to squish the bottom of hazel eyes up and showed off perfectly aligned white teeth that seemed to glitter in the light. The lilt of his head paired with the neatness of his clothes made Jaskier physically sick. 

“Julian! What a delightful surprise. Imagine meeting you here like this. How are things going?” the man’s grin seemed to brighten as he stepped closer to the counter. 

“Don’t call me that,” Jaskier said in a low tone. His hands were already shaking and it was all he could do to not take off running in the other direction. Looking between the two, Triss stood at the register with confused eyes. 

“Oh, my apologies. I forgot you were so fond of your pseudonym. What was it again? Jaskier, wasn’t it?” the man tucked his hands into his pockets. In return, Jaskier could only look down at his clenched fists resting on the counter. “You know, his mother always hated that name. She always said--”

“What are you doing here, Lance?” Jaskier interrupted. 

“Trying to order a drink, of course. Speaking of, I think I’ll just have tea with milk please, nothing too fancy. Julian, I believe you recall just how I like it, yeah?” 

Glaring at the counter still, Jaskier felt his cheeks flush violently as memories he’d been repressing flooded back into his head. Memories he’d been running and hiding from. Yes, he did know just how Lance liked his tea, and it wasn’t something he ever wanted to do again. 

“You two seem to know each other pretty well,” Triss cautiously commented, taking the cash from Lance who paced slowly toward Jaskier. 

“No, we don’t,” Jaskier pushed off the counter and started to step away when Lance spoke up.

“Oh, surely we do. We only dated for, what was it, three years?”

“Two and seven months,” Jaskier turned around with a death glare in his eyes as he stalked back to the counter. “And I can safely say they were the worst two years and seven months of my entire life. What do you want, Lance?”

The smile didn’t once falter even in the slightest as Lance regarded Jaskier. 

“Well, I’d love my tea, Julian. And I’d also like to apologize. The way we left things was quite unpleasant--”

“Understatement of the century--”

“--but I’d rather like to make amends and try to start anew.”

“What makes you think I’d ever want that? Lance, what did you think my intentions were that night? And how did you even find me?” 

Triss moved around Jaskier to make the tea, watching with wide eyes the whole time.

“Easy, darling. Your mother knew you were in this general,” Lance vaguely spun his hand in an elegant circle in the air, “erm… area, and all it took was some amature sleuthing. Now, come. Can’t we have a civilized discussion, especially in front of a lady?”

“There’s no civility with you involved. Stay the fuck away from me. I won’t tell you again,” Jaskier pushed off the counter, turning around. 

“That sort of language really isn’t becoming, Julian. You should really consider--”

“And that sort of behavior isn’t becoming either,  _ Lance _ , but that hasn’t stopped you. You have no right coming in here and acting like--”

“What fire still resides in you, Julian! It’s quite exciting to see--”

“Stop calling me that!” 

Triss stepped between the two, pushing Jaskier back toward the back of the house. 

“Alright, alright. That’s enough. Sir, I’ll have to ask you to take your drink and leave, please.”

“Is there a problem?” Lance flashed an innocent expression as he took the cup handed to him. “I rather thought we were making headway with--”

“Sir,” Triss’ tone was warning as Jaskier made a choked sound in the back of his throat. 

“Very well then. We’ll meet up again soon, Julian. I’d really like to reconnect. You know, your mother misses you so. Perhaps things will turn around,” Lance dipped his head with a polite gesture of his hand before winking at Triss, turning, and leaving the cafe. Jaskier barely held back a gag and rushed to the back of the house where he pressed his back against the wall near the computer where he first trained at and slowly slid down to the cold textured tile. Tears were streaming down his face and his hands, no, his whole body was trembling. Conversation from the front of the house tickled his ears but he didn’t catch a single word spoken. Instead, he could only focus on the hard thrumming of his heartbeat deep in his chest. 

He didn’t hear Triss approach but he felt her arm snake around his shoulder and give him a firm squeeze. 

“Gonna tell me what that was all about?” she asked softly, her tone quite curious but gentle at the same time. Taking a deep breath, Jaskier slowly lifted his head. 

“ _ That _ … was my ex.”

“Your ex?”

“ _ That  _ ex.”

“ _ That  _ ex? Are you sure??” Triss pulled away with a shocked voice, her brows furrowed and her eyes wide. She whipped her head around. 

“Yes.  _ That  _ ex. And he’s apparently found me.”

A low whistle blew out from Triss’ lips. Jaskier put his hands around the back of his neck and he sighed. He’d told her before, in casual hang outs, all the horror stories of back home, every reason he wanted to leave that wretched place, and had described to her in vague detail what he’d endured under Lance’s thumb. Of course, he’d spared her the more violent details, but he’d not even gotten to the worst of it. Her arm returned around him and she gave him another squeeze. 

“He seemed so nice and sweet. Real well mannered and he didn’t once seem any intimidating. I can’t imagine--”

“No one could. I barely could. But it’s a facade; he’s great at hiding what he really is.”

“You can come stay with me. He won’t find you at my place, I can make up the couch real nice and--”

“Nah. It’ll be okay. He only knows where I work, not where I live. Besides, Geralt’s working just across the way. All I need to do is walk over after work and have him drive me home. It’ll be okay. Just honestly… wasn’t expecting him to show up out of nowhere. Ignore him and he’ll go away.” 

The two were quiet for a moment.

“For what it’s worth, I thought you handled that pretty well, as scared of him as you’d been,” Triss offered as a comfort. Pulling out of her hold, Jaskier stood up and dusted his apron off before readjusting his polo and pants. 

“He can’t know that. Can’t have that sort of power over me again. Um… If it’s all the same to you, I think I’m going to head over to Geralt’s office a little early,” he said. Not once did he make eye contact with her as he stepped back to the front of the house. Lance was nowhere to be seen. A heavy breath huffed out of his lungs. 

“You sure? I don’t like this, Jaskier. You should--”

“I’ll be fine, Triss. I promise,” he turned to grin at her. Taking her hand, he squeezed it. “I promise. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Her lips twisted and Jaskier could see in her eyes that she indeed was not happy with the situation at all. He knew he could expect her to ramp up her protective nature over him, he could expect phone calls to check in, and expect her popping over to check on him most, if not every, night. That was okay, though. It meant something to him to have someone like her that would be so caring and protective. Pulling her in for a hug, he once more reassured her that everything was alright before he pulled his apron off, untucked his shirt, made Geralt a fresh hot coffee, and stepped out of the cafe. 

Looking left then right, he scanned his surroundings. Despite them looking clear and safe, he felt a chill down his spine. 

Why did Lance have to show up now, of all times? ‘Cuz that demon could smell me being happy, that’s why, he told himself with a bitter expression, and that’s not something Lance would tolerate. All of the memories and feelings he’d been working so hard to repress came flooding to the surface, making his skin crawl and his extremities chill. Of course it would happen like this. Meeting Geralt, falling in love, finding a true best friend… 

Shivering and sniffling, Jaskier crossed the road when the light changed, pacing quickly as the wind started to pick up. Fall was around the corner and he could feel it. He quickened his pace toward the offices that loomed in the distance. The handle was cold as he pulled it open but warm air embraced him and welcomed him into the lobby. Not even Yen’s hard stare at him from over the counter could mitigate the feeling of safety that befell Jaskier standing in that lobby. A thought nagged in the back of his head that she was dangerous - she was his reaper after all - but he ignored it as he padded past her toward the guards. 

With his heart slowing from the confrontation earlier, he dug out the security card that Geralt gave him and showed it to the guards. They gave him a long look over before gesturing toward the elevator which Jaskier made his way to gladly. He was close to Geralt. Meaning further from Lance. 

The interior of the elevator was every bit as posh and sleek as the lobby had been - polished metal railings, reflective wall panels, with buttons that lit up with a soft soothing blue when pressed. A low hum surrounded him as the elevator began its ascent, smoothly passing each floor with a soft chime denoting each level as it went up. Soon, it reached the top floor with a gentle tone, a soft female voice announcing the floor. The doors slowly opened and Jaskier looked around with wide curious eyes as he stepped out. 

Just like his office at home, Geralt’s work office was simple yet elegant. A dark wooden desk polished to perfection, a wireless mouse and keyboard sitting in front of a wide monitor while the tower was nowhere to be seen. Neat papers were stacked next to clean files, with a very large notebook square and center on the desk. A couple of filing cabinets were tucked away next to a large bookcase which held numerous notebooks stacked in straight even rows on the shelves. Puffy leather chairs bound with lines of shiny golden pins along the edges sat in front of the desk. A couple of potted weeping figs were placed strategically through the room. Behind the desk was a large wall of windows, giving a wide view of the city below them. 

Geralt was sitting at the desk, his attention down on the notebook and a steno pad next to it. His pen scratched neatly across the steno pad and he hefted a soft sigh as his other hand trailed down the notebook. The door clicked closed behind Jaskier but Geralt didn’t look up. 

“Two more pages, Yen, then we can leave for the meeting---”

“Thought you’d like a hot coffee,” Jaskier interrupted him. Geralt’s eyes snapped up and he smiled warmly up at his musician. Setting the pen down and closing the notebook, Geralt stood up. 

“Jaskier,”

“Here, just as you like it. Plain black and boring, and--”

Geralt crossed the room in two strides, took the cup from Jaskier as he spoke, set it on the desk, and pulled him in for a deep and sweet kiss. One hand cupped behind Jaskier’s skull and the other snaked eagerly around his waist. When they parted, Jaskier blinked dreamily and sighed. What was his problem before? He forgot entirely. 

“I’m glad you came to visit me. I thought you had another hour of work left, though,” Geralt hummed, not letting go of his hold on Jaskier. Calm washed over Jaskier and he smiled up at Geralt. 

“Triss let me out early. We weren’t too busy, and I wanted to drop by before class tonight. Brought you a coffee and all, and maybe thought if you were wanting to, after my classes, we could have dinner together? Though, honestly, now that I’m here, class is hardly something I’d want to go to.”

Smirking, Geralt rolled his eyes and gently let Jaskier go. He grabbed the cup and began to sip at it while Jaskier paced around the office. 

“So, this is the big mysterious place where you do all your… Reaper… ing?”

“Mmhm,”

“Seems a little…”

“Yes?”  
“Underwhelming.”

Geralt laughed as Jaskier gazed out the window, his hands in his pockets. 

“Then what exactly did you expect? A dark dungeon with heavy black curtains, bones and daggers and odd specimens pickled in jars on the shelves?” 

“Don’t insult me,” Jaskier teased as he turned around and moved toward the desk, his eyes moving to the notebook that Geralt had closed. “You failed to include the long black cloak, the scythe, and--”

He was in the middle of opening the notebook with the flick of his finger but Geralt’s hand suddenly was there, snapping it closed again. Looking up at Geralt, Jaskier saw a hard expression on his face. 

“I will tell you almost everything about my life as a reaper, but you absolutely cannot look through this notebook. It is absolutely forbidden,” Geralt said in a very dangerous low tone that sent shivers through Jaskier, and not the good shivers at that. Swallowing, Jaskier pulled his hand back. Geralt took a sharp breath and drew the notebook close, picked it up, and turned to shelve it. 

“What’s, uh---”

“Death records,” Geralt answered curtly. Lowering his head, Jaskier rolled his lips between his teeth and shuffled from one foot to the other. There was an awkward silence between the two, one of the first they’ve experienced, and Jaskier tried to think of what to say next when he caught sight of a sticky note with Geralt’s handwriting. Geralt’s neat, almost mechanical, like-it’d-been-typed, handwriting. He gasped loudly. 

“I knew it! I knew it, you sneaky sly sonofabitch! You said you hadn’t when you in fact had!” he almost yelled out, pointing a finger at the note. Geralt looked surprised and confused, so Jaskier clarified. “The Martin! You bought me the Martin! And  _ really, Geralt, leaving a four THOUSAND DOLLAR GUITAR UNATTENDED AT MY---” _

Geralt interrupted his increasingly agitated rant with a hearty laugh and head shake, distracting Jaskier from any and all feelings he had besides complete and utter adoration for the Reaper.

“Yes, Jaskier,” Geralt slid the notebook between a couple others and turned. “I bought you the guitar.”

“You spent four thousand dollars, Geralt, how could I ever--”

“You weren’t happy without it,” Geralt reasoned, “and now that it’s yours, you’re happy again. All the money in the world would be worth it to keep you happy, babe.”

Stepping toward him, he ruffled Jaskier’s hair. 

“‘ _ Quit bitching and play _ ’? Out of all the things you could have written, that's what you picked?”

“Mmmh, but was it wrong?” Geralt hummed, stepping back to the shelves. There, he touched the spine of the notebook and changed the subject back to Reaper business, answering the question that Jaskier had been distracted from. “Death sends the notebooks with the information we need for reaps and it is my job to decipher and pass out the memos.”

Jaskier looked up. There was a pensive expression on Geralt’s face, the jovial laughter from just a few moments ago gone, as he looked over the notebooks on the shelves. 

“Decipher?” Jaskier prodded slowly, unsure, as Geralt turned soft half-lidded eyes toward him.

“Yes. Death isn’t the most… succinct in terms of communicating to his Reapers the information they need for reaping deaths, nor are they the most exact when it comes to where the deaths are taking place. These notebooks aren’t just filled with our… district’s deaths. Each notebook is filled with the deaths of everyone in the world and it’s my job to pick out the ones for my team and pass out the memos so that --”

“Wait, you’re saying that everyone that is going to die today is listed in this notebook?” Jaskier moved around the desk and just gestured to the one that Geralt had just shelved. 

“Yes.”

“Is… Is my name in there?” Paling, Jaskier looked to the book like it was going to jump off the shelf and kill him itself.

“I did not see it, and if I did, I wouldn’t allow you to die. Remember?” Geralt smiled sweetly at Jaskier, a hand placed reassuringly on his shoulder. With just a slight amount of pressure, he turned Jaskier and moved him away from the notebooks. 

“So, you said dinner tonight? What time is your class done?”

Glancing back at the bookshelf, Jaskier walked with Geralt to the desk. There, Geralt picked up the coffee once more and sipped at it. 

“Around ten, but its a study night anyway and I won’t get anything out of it that I couldn’t get at home by myself. So, I’m just going to skip it and--”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said with a tone that was reminiscent of a father chiding his child. 

“Oh, come on, Geralt. If I went to this class and got out at ten, what sort of dinner do you see us having? McDonald’s or baloney sandwiches with stale chips?”

Geralt’s eyebrow quirked and he gave Jaskier a judgemental look. 

“Nope. Mind’s made up, and you can’t change it. I’m skipping class tonight. What time are you picking me up then? Seven? Seven thirty?”

“Oh, now I’m picking you up, too?” Geralt barely could mask his smile and laughter. It made Jaskier feel warm in his chest. 

“Well, yeah. Or do you really want me to walk to a subway and then take a train and then walk again to wherever we’re going. In the cold, when it’s forecast to rain. All by myself, in the dark, with--”

“Not at all an extortionist, are you?” Geralt hummed with a soft smile as he placed his hand on Jaskier’s low back and ushered him to the door. “I do have work to finish, however, so--”

“Actually, Geralt. I couldn’t possibly convince you to uh… Give me a ride home, could I?” Jaskier asked as Geralt opened the door. Pausing, Geralt jerked his arm outward and then drew it in, having shifted the sleeve off his watch to look at the time. He let out a strangled hum, looked at Jaskier, and a couple muscles worked in his jaw. “Or… not, if you’re late for something,” Jaskier continued. 

“I can drop you off on the way,” Geralt said finally, letting his arm fall, “But Yen is coming too, and I need you to pretend you know nothing of our lives. You don’t know I’m a Reaper, you don’t know Yen’s your Reaper, and you don’t know you’re supposed to be dead. You know nothing. Understood?” 

The severity and urgency of Geralt’s tone and words were enough for Jaskier. He nodded and put his hand over his chest. 

“Scouts honor, darling,” he swore. Geralt rolled his eyes. 

“That’s not how you do it, but I’ll take it.”

Taking his hand, Geralt led Jaskier to the elevator, pressed the button, and waited patiently for the lift to arrive. 

“So uh… How’s your day been, then?” Jaskier asked almost too casually. He was pretty sure he should drop any Reaper talk at this point and was struggling to come up with any other topic to talk about aside from his run in with his ex. That was embarrassing enough that Triss had to witness it, Geralt absolutely didn’t need to know, he reasoned. Besides, he thought once more. Just ignore it and it’ll go away. 

“It’s been alright. Better now, I’ll admit,” Geralt gave a sideways glance to Jaskier as he squeezed his hand gently. 

“Wow, needed caffeine that badly, huh? I get it. Sometimes I can get downright--”

Geralt interrupted him with another sweet kiss just as the elevator chimed and the doors slid open. He chuckled a low laugh when he pulled back to see Jaskier with a dreamy closed eyed expression. 

“Come on. We’ll miss the lift.”

Pulling Jaskier into the elevator, Geralt pressed the button to the lobby and the elevator started descending smoothly. They were silent together, watching the numbers counting down the floors. Soon they arrived at the lobby and the doors opened to reveal Yen standing there with her arms folded and a neutral expression on her face turned sour. Jaskier offered an ordinary smile as Geralt tucked his free hand into his jacket pocket and inclined his head. 

“Yennefer. Perfect. I was just coming down to collect you. Are you ready?” Geralt said as he and Jaskier exited the elevator. 

“I am,” she said curtly. Her eyes, however, were focused on Jaskier and it made an ice cold tingling sensation crawl across his skin to know he was looking into the eyes of his Reaper. “Are you done with babysitter duty, then?” 

“I’m not  _ that  _ much younger than Geralt,” Jaskier replied, glancing at Geralt. At least, he hoped he wasn’t. He really didn’t know how old Geralt was, actually. 

“Hmm. Cute. Well, the adults should be going. We won’t want to be late,” she turned to Geralt and stuck her hand out with the palm facing up. 

“We won’t be. Jaskier actually lives on the way and I’ve promised him a ride home, so let’s go.”

Not once letting go of Jaskier’s hand, Geralt offered his free one to Yennefer who tucked her arm about his and walked on the other side of Geralt with a stiff spine. Jaskier did his best to not get jealous and instead focused on not blowing his and Geralt’s secret. The trio walked through the lobby, through the front doors, and down the sidewalk to the parking garage. There, Yennefer made her way to the passenger seat and stood there expectantly gazing at Geralt. 

“Yen always rides in the front. I hope you don’t mind,” Geralt said softly, opening the back seat door for Jaskier. 

“No, not at all, I love being the back seat third wheel,” he replied, though it came out sounding sarcastic. Maybe he did mean it to sound that way, maybe not. But he didn’t care to give it much thought. Instead, he slid into the seat and buckled up, glancing at the way Yennefer settled in and flipped her hair about her head. 

“So, uh. Big meeting downtown?” Jaskier tried at conversation when Geralt closed his door and opened the driver’s door. 

“Yep.”

“About erm. Life insurance-y… things?”

“Your deductive reasoning and logic skills are astounding,” Yennefer turned to gaze at him with a twinkle in her eye as she reached and very quickly brushed a strand of hair from Jaskier’s forehead, “I can see why Geralt likes you.”

A blush dusted Jaskier’s cheeks and he wasn’t sure how to reply to the sarcastic quip. 

“Yen, play nice,” Geralt hummed, powering on the car as she chuckled to herself and turned to face forward once more. Squirming uncomfortably in his seat, Jaskier rolled his lips between his teeth and almost fumed as they rode silently through the city. He suddenly felt a rush of stabbing fear shoot through his gut - Yen, his Reaper, the one who was trying to kill his ass, was about to see where he lived. 

The car pulled up to the curb and Geralt parked before twisting in his seat. 

“So, dinner tonight. Seven thirty?” he asked with a soft smile. A barely muffled scoff came from Yen but Jaskier ignored it. 

“Absolutely. I’m thinking mexican sounds good. What do you think? There’s this fantastic little hole-in-the-wall a few blocks to the north of downtown that serves up these amazing little soft shell tacos that are just stunningly--”

Yen cleared her throat quite obnoxiously, making a show of checking her watch and throwing a glance to the two. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I interrupting?” She raised her brows and glanced between the two. 

“Yen--”

“Not at all, I’ll just continue this conversation on our  _ date _ . At seven thirty  _ tonight _ ,” Jaskier snarked back, emphasizing his sass with a firm kiss planted on Geralt’s lips. When he pulled back he saw Geralt had a look of surprise in his eyes, and Yen was very pointedly not looking at either one of them once more. “Go on, Geralt, must be on your way. Yen, have a  _ beautiful  _ day.”

Jaskier got out of the backseat of the car and gently shut the door behind him despite his irritation at her making him want to slam it. Having to deal with her for the rest of their relationship was going to be a pain in the ass, he thought, but Geralt was well worth it. Besides, it’s not like her attitude was the worst thing he’s had to deal with. 

Watching the white car pull away and cruise down the street to turn the corner, Jaskier took a big breath of the cool autumn air and felt a sudden prickle on the back of his neck. He whipped around. He was alone. Odd. He felt like someone was standing there behind him, breathing down his neck. It wasn’t a feeling he was too keen on... Maybe he  _ should  _ have taken Triss up on that offer to stay with her, maybe--- no, no. He was stronger than that. Lance wouldn’t ever get the pleasure of having that sort of power over him again. 

By the time he’d gotten himself up to his apartment, he had developed quite the itch to play that he knew he was going to have to scratch before his date with Geralt. He made little work of gathering his guitar, its case, his tip jar, and a spare jacket before heading back out again and making his way to the subway. That tickle at the back of his neck was still there, making him constantly scan his surroundings with a suspicious gaze. 

On the way there, Jaskier nibbled on the inside of his cheek, wondering if this was a good idea. HIs usual park was awfully close to the coffee shop; what if Lance was still lingering in the vicinity? Nah, he thought to himself with another glance down the train car. Lance likely saw him leave with Geralt and Yennefer and would have left as well. There wasn’t the chance, he told himself, that Lance would still be there. 

As the train pulled into the station, the PA chimed and the doors slid open, so Jaskier stood up and made his way out and up to the sidewalk. Heavy clouds in the distance told him he didn’t have a ton of time to spend in the park. Rain on his new guitar was the last thing he needed. With that in mind, he hurried down the way and into the park to his usual place. It wasn’t as busy out at this time of day but that was okay. He wasn’t there to make money like he used to be. 

“ _ Look at him, look at me, that boy is bad and honestly, he’s a wolf in disguise, but I can’t stop staring in those evil eyes,”  _ he sang as he strummed the chords, tapping his foot to keep beat. It wasn’t like his last time in a park, when he sang mostly to himself and was withdrawn, but it still wasn’t as loud and bombastic as he normally would have been. This was for fun, not for show. A few people passing by would stop and listen, clapping politely, and maybe even tipping. 

“ _ And never did I think that I would be caught in the way you got me, push another girl aside and just give in,” _

What sounded good for dinner exactly? He wasn’t one hundred percent certain that Geralt would be down to go to the restaurant he suggested, especially since he seemed keen to avoid the less healthy of choices. What was wrong with a little junk food anyway? Big Momma’s was delightful. He was just going to have to change Geralt’s mind one of these days. No big deal. 

“ _ Here we are again, I feel the chemicals kickin’ in, it’s getting heavier, I wanna run and hide, I wanna run and hide,”  _

That tingle had gone away for the most part by the time a little girl ran up in the middle of his song and asked to make a request. Oh. God, not this one. She had the cutest big brown eyes and toothy grin, he just couldn't resist. 

“ _ Baaayyyybeeeee shark, do dooo dodododo, baby shark, do dooo dodododo,”  _ he grinned through the lyrics and she cheered and laughed, doing the dance along with the song as he strummed and swayed back and forth, singinging the song to her, “ _ grandpa shark, do dooo dodododo, grandpa shark, do dooo dodododo,” _

When the song was done, her father tipped and gave him an apologetic expression. The tired look in his eyes told Jaskier that this wasn’t the first time they’ve heard that song today, or the second, third, fifth, sixteenth, or even twentieth. He almost felt bad to subject the dad to another round but it seemed to make her day so he didn’t mind so much. As they walked off, he started strumming a slower melody, his last song of the day. The heavy clouds had moved overhead and Jaskier knew it was time to wrap things up and go home for his date. 

“ _ Sweet dreams ‘til sunbeams find you, sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you. But, in your dreams, whatever they be, dream a little dream of me,” _

A plop of rain smacked him dab in the forehead and he blinked rapidly. It startled him enough to throw off his strumming, missing a fingering just enough for the chord to sound wrong. Looking up, he gazed at the clouds and frowned. Well, shit. He finished the last bits of the song and very quickly (but still utterly reverently, as if the guitar were the holy child itself) made work of packing up and moving out. 

Slinging the strap over his shoulder and standing back up, Jaskier froze in place. A warm breath tickled the back of his neck, caressing across the hair at the base of his skull, drawing up heavy goosebumps and a cold sensation shot through his body. Only one thought entered his mind. 

_ Lance _ .

Whipping around, Jaskier looked with wide eyes around but no one was there. He was utterly alone on the path. Taking a long slow breath, he tried to settle his anxiety but despite him being the only one there, he couldn't help but feel like he was being watched. 

More rain plopped down around him so Jaskier scooped his tip jar up and started to hurry down the path. Wind picked up around him so he flicked his hood up and only glanced down the street he was crossing instead of actually looking for cars. By the time he reached the subway, it was absolutely downpouring. 

Brilliant idea, he told himself. Absolutely brilliant. He really rather hoped it was calmed down or even stopped by the time he got off the subway line but instead it continued to heavily downpour. He let out a strangled and drawn out groan, shifting his weight from one foot to the other again and again quickly. What was he going to do? He really needed to get his guitar put away, shower, and change before the date. But this rain and the old guitar case? Bad news. 

“Ahhhhh fuck-skittles…” 

Pulling his phone out, he scrolled through it and punched a button. The line rang four times before-- 

“What hospital??”

He rolled his eyes. 

“No hospital, Triss, but a sort of kind of little bit of an emergency… I’ll just cut to the chase. I’ve got a date with Geralt in like an hour and I’m stranded outside of the--”

“Say less, I’ll be there in twenty. The one on Delano?” 

“Yes please.”

Triss hung up and Jaskier headed back down into the subway to wait for her. By this point, it was starting to get busy and he struggled to find a good waiting place where he wouldn’t be jostled by the crowd and risk damage to his guitar. People trying to make their way home from work bustled by him, hardly making eye contact. None of them seem to pay him any mind or even really notice him. So why was he feeling like he was being watched? Scrutinized, evaluated,  _ stared at _ . 

A buzzing in his pocket came as a relief and he shook his head. He was being paranoid. Lance was getting under his skin again and he couldn’t let that happen. No, he was going out with Geralt, and so long as he was with Geralt, he was safe. Geralt wouldn’t let him die. He was safe. 

Jaskier made his way rapidly up the stairs and out into the rain, straight to the street where Triss’ car was waiting for him (the sweet, warm, dry car, waiting to whisk him away…). He made short work of placing his guitar case in the back seat before he hopped into the passenger seat. 

“God fucking bless, Triss. You’ve no idea how--”

“Yep! I know,” she gave a smug grin and put the car into gear. “So, what date is this? Four? Five?” 

“Erm, I’m not quite sure. Not like I’ve been keeping count.” 

Triss fell silent as they paused at the red light ahead of her, so Jaskier turned to look. She was wearing a sly expression, turned to gaze at him with her head tilted downward and her eyebrows raised, her eyes half lidded and her lips squished together. He laughed, and blushed. 

“What? I haven’t been! Besides, we meet together so often, it’s hard to determine what counts as a date or just a casual meet or--”

“Steamy hot sex?”

His blush deepened. 

“Yes,” he couldn’t help but laugh, “steamy hot sex.”

“You’ve still not given me  _ nearly _ enough details about that, you know.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and gazed out the window. The lines of rainwater streamed down the glass almost hypnotically. 

“Ugh fiiiine. I’ll get it out of you eventually,” she said when the light turned green and they started forward again. It wasn’t long before she pulled up in front of his apartment complex, putting the car in park. 

“Here you go, babycakes, home sweet home!” 

Jaskier leaned over the center console and gave Triss a hug. 

“I owe you big time!” 

“Oh, not at all. Just give me every last detail of this date,” Triss teased. 

“Right, of course, of course.”

Getting out of the car, Jaskier quickly scooped up his guitar case and hurried himself inside. The rain was still heavily falling (how was it possible they could be getting so much rain?) and part of him wondered if that would put a damper on their date. Nah. They were only doing dinner after all. 

Once in his apartment, he hummed to himself as he stripped and stepped into the shower. Soap bubbles tickled his skin while he washed himself off, taking extra care to shave and scrub his junk just in case he had another physical encounter tonight. Gods above, he wanted another encounter tonight. He wanted Geralt to slam him against the bed and pound into him relentlessly. Closing his eyes, hand encircling his shaft, he gave it a few slow languid strokes as he leaned against the shower wall and pictured Geralt’s girthy cock pushing into him. 

Panting softly, the steam of the shower making his breath feel heavy, he furrowed his brow. His hand moved faster. Geralt’s lips, on his neck. His breathy whispers and soft grunts of effort. The way Geralt’s hands smoothed and dug into his skin. Passionate. Needing more. Wanting more. Worshipping. Unrelenting. The persistent pulse of his hips snapping into Jaskier, driving his cock deeper. Deeper. 

Jaskier moaned at the fantasy and slid down the tile of the shower, settling in the downpour from the showerhead. Outside of the shower, his phone chimed and he gasped, ripped out of his fantasy and pulled back from the edge of his climax. Shit, what was he doing? He didn’t have time for this. He reached up, scrambling against the wet tile, and turned the shower off before he darted out. Water dripped all over the tile. 

His foot hit the tile just the wrong way and he slipped, flying backwards with a surprised shriek. Eyes squeezed closed, he braced for impact but--

“Have you ever heard of a shower mat? I mean, honestly, Jaskier!”

“Geralt!” Jaskier threw his hands over his groin and stared up into those golden eyes that were right above his. They rolled.

“You know I’ve not only seen it already but have had it inside of me, right?” 

“Ahaha… right. Wow, that was close! How did you--”

“Your name was in the book,” Geralt answered as he slowly lifted Jaskier back onto his feet before handing him a towel and turning to leave the bathroom. Blood drained out of Jaskier’s face for a moment. 

“But… Yen never--”

“The touch in the car. I hadn’t realized until later,” Geralt didn’t turn back around but rather moved to stand in Jaskier’s kitchen while he waited. Tucking the towel around his hips, Jaskier stepped out of the bathroom. 

“Geralt…”

“Hmm?”

“You told me my name wasn’t in the notebook…”

“I didn’t say that, Jaskier. I said I hadn’t seen it, and if it were, I would protect you from dying. And I did,” Geralt almost seemed to snap back harshly but then his shoulders lowered and he sighed. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t wanted to scare you.”

Disappointment replaced his fear and Jaskier sighed as well. 

“Hadn’t we agreed, though, that we wouldn’t be keeping secrets, no lies, Geralt?” 

“We had. And I’m sorry,” Geralt looked up at Jaskier from under his brows with sad eyes. Tilting his head, Jaskier shook the water from his hair and then stepped to Geralt. He took Geralt’s hand in his then rocked up on his toes to give him a soft kiss. 

“I accept your apology if you swear to me, no more,” his voice was gentle, soft, but firm. In response, Geralt only nodded, but Jaskier took it and smiled. “There. See? Right then. Shall I get dressed for our date?” 

“Hmm… what date,” Geralt murmured before he took Jaskier in his arms and next thing Jaskier knew, they were in the bed together. Well. He wasn’t about to complain. 

“Alright,” he laughed heartily, “But dinner after,”

“Yeah,” Geralt tugged the towel away from Jaskier’s hips. “Dinner after."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update!!   
> I GOT THE JOB YALLLLL!!!!! My entire life is about to change and Im insanely nervous and exited and all sorts of shit. 
> 
> Sorry for not posting for a long time, work has been insanely busy and I'd been struggling with finding my muse again. With this change coming up in my life, I may be much much slower about updating, but I promise you, we're so close to finishing this story that I wont let it go unfinished!~!
> 
> If you hadnt noticed, I updated the chapter count again, it may change again in the future, we'll see. I had some ideas and decided things needed to be extended out for you all <3
> 
> Thank you guys SO GODDAMNED MUCH for your continued support!! I hope you continue to enjoy my work. You're all the best!!
> 
> COME CHAT WITH ME tumblr: @mysalyss twitter: @mysalyssart discord: #MysAlyss5342


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh look im not dead *throws chapter at you*

Almost a whole week passed by without any sign of Lance, giving Jaskier the feeling that he could breathe again. That tingle wasn’t there, like he was being watched, and that feeling that Lance was close just never came back. 

“Really, I think the scene I made scared him off. He knows now I’m too tough for him. Knows he can’t treat me like he used to,” Jaskier scuffed his nails against his polo and bragged to Triss a couple days later as they cleaned during a lull in customers. 

“Oh, totally. You were a badass, Jasky. No way that punk comes back. Posh-acting, fake as hell, motherfu--”

“Oi, oi. Work,” Jaskier gestured to the counter where a customer had stepped up and placed their hands on the marble. 

“Yeah, can I get two venti mochas, a grande americano, and two venti iced chai lattes? Double shot on the americano and extra ice in one of the chais,” The customer rattled off the order making Triss and Jaskier get to work like a well oiled machine. Jaskier on the drink machines, listening to the hiss and gurgle of the contraptions heating milk and brewing espresso shots as he pumped syrups and stirred drinks in tall cups. Soon, all five drinks were done and placed into a carrier, labeled accordingly with hearty lids capping them off. 

“Right, and here you are! Two. Venti mochas. One. Grande americano with an extra shot of espresso. And two. Venti iced chai lattes, with extra ice in one. Anything else, luv?” Jaskier pushed the drinks forward and grinned at the woman. 

“Nope that’s all,” she took the drinks and didn’t even tip as she hauled them away, pushing through the door with her hip. Jaskier scoffed softly. 

“That wasn’t very cool,” he bumped the counter with his own hip.

“Not very ‘dolla bill’ of her at all,” Triss rubbed a cloth over her hands and Jaskier almost fell from his feet as he slipped backwards laughing hard. 

“Not very _what_??” he was cackling, doubled over with his arms around his waist. 

“Hey now! What did I say wrong this time?” 

Barely able to speak for how much he was laughing, he just waved at her and turned away, trying to regain his composure. It took a few moments but then he was able to speak. 

“It’s---... Oh, god, ahahah it’s-it’s ‘cash money’, Triss. ‘Not very cash money’,” He managed, starting to cackle again. 

“You young kids and your slang lingo, I can’t ever keep up,” Triss just shook her head. She flopped the cloth onto the counter. 

“You’re only older by two years!!” Jaskier almost shrieked before laughing again. This time, she started laughing as well. 

“Whatever, get outta here,” she laughed as she picked the cloth up and flung it at Jaskier. It was time for him to clock out after all and Geralt had guaranteed him a ride to the park to play his guitar since the weather was forecasted to be lovely this afternoon. After that, Geralt had some sort of fitting planned before a generic scary movie at his house and Jaskier could not wait. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll be back tomorrow, grandma, and you can--AHH HEY!” 

Triss playfully squirted chocolate syrup at him, though none even came near him. Turning away from her, he nearly ran into their coworker who was on her way in to take over from the end of his shift on. 

“Oh! Sorry, luv!” He grinned down at her and she held out an envelope. 

“I was told by a customer to give you this for your wonderful service the other day, they didn’t get a chance to thank you,” she said sweetly before moving around him to go get punched in. 

“Oh, thank you.”

Taking the envelope, he folded it and tucked it into his pocket before walking out of the shop to the sleek white sports car that was waiting for him. 

“Did you have a nice shift?” Geralt asked as Jaskier buckled in and glanced at the back seat to see his guitar sitting back there, resting in a fresh new case. 

“Geralt, you didn’t--”

“But I did and it’s already too late to fight it. Now, did you have a good shift?” 

Giving him an exasperated look and a sigh, Jaskier settled in. 

“I actually did. Tips weren’t so great this go round but ah well, sometimes you can’t help that. Besides, I’m not so worried. I made hella bank yesterday, remember?”

“Mhm,” 

Geralt was driving them the short distance to the park, taking his time as if he were enjoying the ride. Really, Jaskier was enjoying it too. His hand reached over and took Geralt’s, earning him a squeeze in return. Traffic was minimal and the ride was over before Jaskier was ready. 

“Alright, two hours, three tops, and I’ll be back to pick you up for the fitting.” 

“I still don’t see why I can’t tag along. I thought I did okay with the reap at the mall and--”

“You didn’t do that great, and this one is… It’s too dangerous, and I’d rather you not be around for it,” Geralt interrupted as Jaskier folded his arms and pouted. 

“Dangerous or not, if my name isn’t in the book today there’s nothing to worry about!”

Geralt turned and gave a deadpan expression that told Jaskier that he wasn’t buying his logic. 

“Come on, Geralt, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Let’s see. The reap is taking place at a construction site where the contractors are known for cutting corners and shoddy work to line their pockets with budget money, what could possibly go wrong?” Geralt quirked a brow and gave Jaskier a sort of smug smirk. “I’ll be back to pick you up when everything is all said and done, and we’ll go to the fitting.”

“... Fine. At least tell me what the fitting is for?” Hand on the door, Jaskier conceded with slumped shoulders. The smirk on Geralt’s face turned into a soft smile. 

“It’s a surprise. You trust me, don’t you?” 

“With my life,” Jaskier leaned in and kissed Geralt softly. “Just hurry back.”

“And stay safe,” Geralt warned as the door opened and Jaskier stepped out, moving to pull the guitar from the backseat. 

“It’s a park. What’s the worst that could happen?” 

Geralt mumbled something under his breath while Jaskier pulled the guitar out of the backseat and slung the strap over his chest. It settled heavily on his back, strong and sturdy. He took a couple seconds to feel the strap, taking in the quality and near perfection of it. Damn. He was going to have a hell of a time repaying Geralt for this; just a blowie would be too little. Closing the door of the car, Jaskier watched as Geralt pulled away from the curb and down the street. 

A cool breeze ruffled his hair and he stretched, looking to the gates of the park, before sighing contently and making his way in toward his usual spot. There, he reverently set his case down and plucked his guitar from it before hooking the guitar’s strap around his neck and tuning it softly. 

Looking up and around, he tried to get a gauge for the type of crowd he was playing for. Not the usual, it seemed. Most people had their heads down and were purposefully walking down the path instead of loitering and enjoying the day. Odd, he thought as he strummed a couple of chords absently. Very odd. 

He was in the middle of wondering where everyone was when a gust of wind hit him and he smelled the weather change in the air. That smell, the metallic earthy scent, the heaviness. The wind _was_ getting cooler, despite clear forecasts and promises of sunshine. And in the far distance, a high white cloud that towered tall in the sky. No wonder hardly anyone was here. Was he sure this was the right activity to have chosen while he waited on Geralt? Surely he could have just sat in the car. 

Oh well. It was only two hours. Ish. He could do this. 

“ _I know I took the path that you would never want for, I know I let you down, didn’t I?”_ A few people paused here and there to glance at him and listen but hardly anyone offered a tip. That was okay. He wasn’t in dire need and right now, he was just enjoying playing. Content, like the feeling of laying in a hammock on a warm summer's twilight as the sun fades away, Jaskier closed his eyes and wore a soft smile as he transitioned from song to song. 

_“Those eyes, damn those eyes, they get me every time. Those eyes, in those eyes, I can do no crime,”_

A sudden chill shot down his spine and he opened his eyes and looked around, strumming the wrong chord. The park around him was emptier than Jaskier’s bank account had been just a few months ago. Even the wind had ceased; the air falling to a deadly stillness that had Jaskier hearing his own heartbeat in his ears. Something just wasn’t right and Jaskier couldn’t quite place it. He continued to scan the park diligently but still, nothing. 

“Calm before the storm,” he murmured to himself as he looked to the sky and saw dark heavy clouds crawling rapidly toward him. Damn those weathermen. He could get rained on, no problem, but the Martin? He would rather die. 

Setting it gently into the case after scooping out a handful of coins and two crumpled dollar bills, he secured the latches and moved to sling it over his shoulder with care. He grunted when his jacket got caught in the strap wrong and with another few throaty noises, he readjusted. A white fluttering to the ground caught his eye. 

It was that envelope his coworker gave him. 

“Oh, right! What’s all this then,” he mused to himself. Picking it up, Jaskier stuck his finger in the flap and slid it down the length to rip it open and--

“Fuck! Of course, cuz what else would happen,” He exclaimed and held his hand up. A thin line of blood welled up along his fresh new paper cut and he groaned over dramatically before pulling the letter out. “This had better be worth the…” he trailed off, his blood running cold and his heart shooting into his butt as he read the letter. 

_My Darling Julian,_

_How lovely it was to see you again, after all this time away. I’d rather hoped our meeting would have gone better than that but alas, your flair for the dramatics has seemed to grow over time instead of dwindling. My hope that time and age would tame you appears to have gone unfulfilled but that’s quite alright - my greater hope will not go abandoned. We all very much miss you back home. The court isn’t the same without your light energy and insubordination, and my bed just isn’t nearly as warm and comfortable without you in my grasp. Whatever happened between us, my precious? Retrospectively, perhaps I was indeed too rough with my handling of you, but you know what they say, a wild spirit must be broken if it is to be accepted in a civilized society and you my darling are the wildest spirit I’ve yet to tame. But I shan’t give up. No, you, my love, are my life’s goal and I shall die before I fail to see it through. You’ll see, one of these days, soon. You’ll see, and you’ll learn. Until we meet again, a moment I long to arrive at but will not have to wait for as it will be sooner than not, I will be watching as I always do. Be smart, be safe, behave, and perhaps stop accepting rides from strange men in white sports vehicles. It rather upsets me, and you know how I feel about sharing._

_See you very soon,_

_Love forever, Lance_

Reading the note over and over, Jaskier felt more and more like a mouse who stepped on the glue trap in the garage. He swallowed. Okay. Maybe Lance was more a threat than he’d convinced himself he was. With shaking hands, he crumpled the note up and rushed it to the trash bin across the way where he threw it in like it was ablaze. Were that it was, he thought as he stumbled backwards with wide eyes. Heavy breaths came rapidly and he felt himself starting to fall into an anxiety fit over the thought of Lance harming him.

Then he slapped himself. 

“Get ahold of yourself!” he gasped, rubbing his own cheek as he hunched over. “He can’t harm you. Geralt’s watching you. Geralt will know if anything were to happen. He’ll keep you safe, he... Geralt’s… Geralt!” 

Spying the white sports car pulling up to the curb in the distance, Jaskier took a few forced deep breaths and grabbed the strap to his case. He walked rapidly to the car, hearing the distant rumbles of thunder approaching. LIkely Geralt would be able to see the distress he was in so on the way, Jaskier concentrated on breathing. In through the nose, hold, and out through pursed lips. In through the nose, hold, and out through pursed lips. Again and again. His heart rate stayed high but he felt tension leaving his body and felt his fear abating the closer to the car he got - the closer to Geralt he was. Closer to safety. 

“You’re early! How did it go then? Smooth sailing, I’d imagine given you’re here before schedule and appearing unharmed,” Jaskier slid into the passenger seat effortlessly after settling his guitar into the back and going so far as to buckle it in. 

“It went as well as any reap could go,” Geralt said softly as the car rumbled silently around the two. His eyes were distant so Jaskier took his hand. 

“Talk to me, Geralt,” he implored.

“What’s there to talk about? I released the souls of four construction men just for them to be crushed beneath concrete slabs that fell from six stories above them because it wasn’t secured into place correctly. They died, and I moved along like always,” Geralt’s voice rumbled while he put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb. 

Rolling his lip between his teeth, Jaskier squeezed Geralt’s hand and looked at him. There was that distant look in his eyes that Jaskier was learning meant Geralt was entering a not so great state of mind. So, to help that, Jaskier turned the radio on and hit the next button again and again until it landed on a song he thought would cheer Geralt up. 

“ _I was walking along, minding my business when out of an orange colored sky --_ **_FLASH, BAM, ALAKAZAM_ ** _”_ he sang and then, well frankly, screamed, while dramatically throwing his arms and over exaggerating his expressions, “ _Wonderful you came by!”_

It was working. Geralt’s expression slowly melted into one of joyous amusement. He even laughed. 

“ _One look and I yelled TIMBER!!”_ Jaskier flopped over the center console (probably not the safest thing to do but Geralt hadn’t said he’d die today so he didn’t care), then threw his arms over his face as he sang, “ _Watch out for flying glass!”_

Geralt laughed heartily and pushed Jaskier back into his own seat. 

“ _I’ve been hit! This is it, this is it, I-T! IT!”_

By the time he was done with the third dramatic singing of another song, Geralt had pulled into a parking lot and parked the car with a warm grin. 

“Fitting time. Let’s go,” he said as he turned the car off, pocketed the keys, and moved to open the door but Jaskier grabbed his hand. 

“Alright, mister mysterio, what’s this fitting all about?” 

“It’s a surprise, Jaskier,” Geralt hummed back. 

“Come on. Spoil it for me, I’ll still act surprised. Promise! Look, look. _Gasp!!_ ” he feigned surprise, even going so far as to put a hand dramatically over his gaping mouth then on his jaw. It earned him a sarcased roll of Geralt’s eyes before he gestured to the building in front of them. 

“No spoilers. You’re just going to have to trust me, darling.”

A shock went through Jaskier at the word ‘darling’ but he immediately dismissed it. This was Geralt saying it, not Lance. It had an entirely different meaning and it felt right instead of… disturbing. 

“Fine, fine. I suppose I’ll go along with you this time,” Jaskier teased before he unbuckled and left the car. He tucked his hands into his jacket pockets and followed Geralt into the shop. Immediately, he paled. 

Suits. Suits and suits and suits. Tuxedos and jackets and slacks and shoes and ties and everything that Jaskier couldn’t, no, wouldn’t wear ever again. 

“Geralt---”

“Trust me. Please?” Geralt turned, giving Jaskier the best puppy dog eyes he could manage. They weren’t nearly as effective as Jaskier’s but they would do the trick. With a whine, Jaskier nodded. Almost on cue, an older woman, a much much older woman, stepped out from behind a corner and greeted Geralt with a warm smile. 

“Oh, Mr. Haute-Bellegarde! How wonderful to see you again! How is your grandfather? Oh, you look so much like him, you know?” she stepped toward him and gave him a gentle hug before pulling back, adjusting her glasses, and looking Geralt up and down. Curiously, Jaskier watched the interaction quietly instead of interjecting. 

“He’s passed away, Mrs. Allensby. Just last spring,” Geralt said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

“Awww. I’m sorry to hear that, luv. You know, I used to be quite a good friend of his fathers when I was a kid. He, and your great-great grandfather, used to come into my mom’s shop every single week on the dot. And then he was sent off to war and I never saw him again. Not until your grandfather came in. Spitting image of his father, just like you are of yours. Such sad news.”

Geralt nodded slightly through her little speech before redirecting her to Jaskier, who noticed an odd look in Geralt’s eyes. 

“Well, Mrs. Allensby, this is my close friend, Jaskier. We’re here for his appointment,” Geralt stepped back, giving Mrs. Allensby a moment to size Jaskier up. 

“Ah, yes yes! Would you like to wait in the shop, or were you wanting to come along as well, dear?” she grinned at Jaskier as she continued to speak to Geralt. 

“I’ll wait here, ma’am.”

“Very well. Come now, come come. We’ve not got all day!” The woman grabbed Jaskier about the arm and, though her hands and arms were thin and frail looking, her grip was intensely powerful and Jaskier barely had time to register what was happening. The woman pulled him into the back of the shop where she stood him up on a small platform and pulled his jacket off. 

“Erm, Ma’am, I---”

“Hush now, dear. Here. Put this on, quickly now,” she had turned and pulled a hanger from a rack nearby, passing it to him before turning away to tend to some items on a small table. The suit was a lovely dark blue color that didn’t quite match his eyes but would absolutely make them pop. He glanced at her with uncertainty before he stripped down to his underwear and worked the suit on. 

Well, it wasn’t like the ones he’d been forced to wear back home, but it was still a suit. Yes, he looked good. He always looked good, despite it not being fitted to him yet, but he hated it. A sour expression crossed his face as the woman turned back around and began measuring, folding, and pinning the fabrics around his body. 

“So how do you know Mr. Haute-Bellegarde?” the woman asked out of nowhere as she worked on the lower end of the slacks. For a second, Jaskier wasn’t sure how to answer her. Was she old fashioned and against his sort of lifestyle or was she more modernly minded? 

“Um. Well, I met him on the subway one day. Actually saved my life that day. We continued to meet and I suppose we’ve become quite close ever since,” he answered, figuring that was the best way to put it. 

“That sounds lovely,”

“It really is.”

She continued to work around him, humming a soft song he recognized as a Glenn Miller song. Things were starting to come together and he was suddenly intensely interested. Well, if Geralt wasn’t going to tell him about his life pre-reaping, maybe she would. 

“So you knew his grandfather, then?” he asked her after a few moments of silence. 

“Great-grandfather, dear,” she corrected, gesturing for him to have a seat. “He was truly an amazing man. I’d half thought we were to be married, between you and I.”

Giving her an interested look, Jaskier blinked rapidly. 

“Married?”

“Oh yes dear. We’d met each other when I was only eleven, and he was thirteen. I’d known from the moment I met him that we were to be together, but it took him a little longer to figure it out himself,” she giggled. Her eyes lit up like she was young once more; seeing it made Jaskier feel oddly bittersweet. 

“Thirteen and eleven? Isn’t that a bit young to be thinking of marriage?”

“Well yes but it wasn’t anything serious until we were older. He was a quiet boy who hardly spoke a word to anyone until he started opening up around me. When he finally did start opening up, he showed how sweet and romantic and hopeless he was, so very kind and funny. As we grew up, we became closer and closer friends. Eventually he started to take me on little dates. Walks in the park, dinners, dancing. All the little things came together and we fell in love. I think that had it not been for that damned war, we would have been married. But,” she sighed, moving around him and making sure the jacket fit his shoulders right.

“But?”

“But he was drafted and he went off to training before was shipped off to the pacific.”

“And?”

“And what, dear? The only thing that came back of him were his dog tags. Not even a letter, not even his body. Lost to the war, like so many others.”

Jaskier’s expression sombered and his gaze snapped to the doorway of the fitting room. 

“Wait. I’m a little confused. You and he, you never...” he trailed off with an insinuating tone.

“No, we never did,” the old woman blushed. 

“And you were the only one he loved, before he left for war and…”

“And therefore how can there be any children after him, right?”

Slowly, Jaskier nodded and looked at her with curious eyes. A distant look crossed her face. Mrs. Allensby took a long breath. 

“Apparently... he found a lover while on leave before he boarded the ship to the little island of Iwo Jima. That’s what I’ve been told, at least. His bastard child grew up and eventually travelled here. He wanted to learn about his father that he never knew and I suppose fell in love with the town and stayed. Had a family of his own, and that family had a family, and well, here we are.” 

“That must have been--”

“Heartbreaking? Of course, dear. The man I’d loved went off to war, loved another, and then died before he could come back to spend his life with me, what else would be more heartbreaking? But alas, such is life. I could hold on to the pain and waste away with it or I can take what I was given with him and move on. Truthfully, I’m rather just thankful to have known him and to now know his progeny. Eventually, I found another man and had a wonderful family with him, children and grandchildren of my own. I’m only sad that Geralt didn’t get to live that sort of life himself as well.”

Eyes snapping to her, Jaskier’s lips parted in a stunned gasp. 

“Geralt?”

“Oh, yes. It’s a family name. His son was Geralt the second, and then there’s the third, and now we have Geralt the fourth,” She smiled sweetly and nodded. Oh, Jaskier thought. That made sense. Leave out the confusion and make life easier for Geralt if he didn’t have to go by different names. 

Falling silent, Jaskier let her finish up as she continued talking about her own life. His head was absolutely swimming with the new information and he wasn’t sure how exactly to feel about it all. Part of him wondered when to bring any of it up. Or if he even should. Yeah, right. He was going to regardless. Who does he take himself for?

When she was done working, setting the measuring tape and pins aside, Jaskier changed into his own clothes and thanked her. Both of them walked into the open lobby of the shop and approached Geralt. 

“The fitting is finished! I will have the adjustments finished by tomorrow afternoon, just in time for---”

“Ah-ah. It’s a surprise, Mrs. Allensby,” Geralt smiled with his finger to his lips before bowing his head and taking her hand. 

“Right! Right, a surprise. Well. Just be back before… the surprise… and it’ll be ready!” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Allensby,” Geralt lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles before releasing it and moving to take Jaskier’s. 

“Tell your father hello for me, dear,” she waved him off and the two were leaving the shop. As they got into the car, Jaskier gazed at Geralt with different eyes. Things were unravelling for him and he looked at Geralt in a new light. Here was a man who had a life ahead of him. A woman he was in love with, a possible future, and all that was ripped away from him thanks to the second war. No wonder he was so… Him. 

“What are you staring at?” Geralt asked as they drove. 

“Erm… Nothing,” Jaskier blinked rapidly (what, no, he wasn’t tearing up at the absolute bittersweet romance and angst of the story of lost love) and shook his head. He took Geralt’s hand and sighed softly, resting the elbow of his other arm on the door and placing his head in his hand. 

“What’s bothering you?” Geralt prodded, “There’s something off. Was the suit bad? Oh no, she-- Was she inappropriate? She can be a bit of a naughty old woman at times, but--” he was in the middle of chuckling when Jaskier shifted. 

“You were going to marry her? Before you died and all,” 

Geralt’s expression faltered and his eyes turned back to stare at the street ahead. A muscle worked in his jaw. 

“She told you,” Geralt said after a long silence, the words being more a statement than a question. 

“Yeah. She told me a little. Said you were in love for a while and--”

“That was a long time ago, Jaskier.”

“If that’s the case, then why still interact with her all these many years later? Why--”

“She’s the only link to my life I still have and… as pathetic as this sounds, I can’t possibly let her go. Not… Not yet,” Geralt sighed and lowered his gaze almost in shame as they stopped at the light. 

“Geralt…” Jaskier exhaled softly and twisted more in his seat. “There’s nothing pathetic about that. While I don’t know nearly anything on what life after death, I imagine wanting to hold on to one's previous life is a normal happenstance. It’s not like I’m jealous or anything. Really, rather interested. Curious about your life before this one, about her and you. She--”

“Jaskier…” Geralt sighed, putting the car into park and then turning it off. They were in front of Geralt’s home but neither one made moves to exit the vehicle. Both of his hands went down to his lap and he took a long slow breath. 

“Renee Allensby, formerly Renee Keller, was a young woman I was very close to when I was alive. She was my only friend as I worked with my father in the steel mill to make ends meet. Her mother repaired the tears in our clothes so we could continue to work, and while she did, I mingled with her daughter. Our feelings for each other grew as we did and when I turned nineteen, I realized she was the one I wanted to marry. Knowing that I needed to provide for her and a future family, I began working hard to save money and build a life for her. But…”

He paused, working his jaw and taking slow breaths. As much as it pained him, Jaskier stayed silent and focused on giving Geralt time to reveal his past at his own pace. 

“The Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor and that moment of history not only destroyed my plans but led to the end of my life. Renee suffered my loss but moved on and yet I never could really move on myself. Mum was gone, Dad died a year after I did. I had a few brothers but they died in the war as well, so when I came back from that godforsaken island, within a few years I was utterly alone. Renee was the only thing left of my old life and… With Yen’s help, despite her reluctance and disapproval, I invented the story of ‘Geralt’ to continue to visit with her. Renee hasn’t long left in this life and once she’s passed, so goes the last piece of my life that remains.” 

Jaskier stared at Geralt with half parted lips. He wasn’t even sure what to say in reply, other than he thinks that this was one of the longest speeches Geralt’s made outside of his confession, but he figured that likely wasn’t the most appropriate time to say so. Instead, the best he could manage was reaching over to caress Geralt’s cheek. 

“Come on. Let’s go inside,” Geralt whispered and opened the car door and stepped out. With a deep breath, Jaskier unbuckled and followed. It was progress, he thought, that Geralt didn’t just up and leave without him. But he’d still need to break him of walking away first. 

Both of them made their way up the stairs of the porch and into the home, settling onto the bench to take their shoes off almost in sync. Roach came forward with an excited _Mrrp!_ And leaped into Geralt’s lap. A pensive expression crossed Geralt’s face, his eyes distant and his posture more slumped in as he caressed Roach’s head and cheeks. She was absolutely grinning, purring contently at the attention.

“You should know, Jaskier, that I still love Renee. I love her in the way that one might love an old friend. You, Jaskier, you are my boyfriend, the one I deeply love with all my heart, you should know that none of my feelings would ever change and that--”

“You don’t have to explain anything, Geralt. I know you love me and I feel secure in us. There is nothing wrong with loving Mrs. Allensby. She was a big part of your… past life, and what sort of boyfriend would I be to say anything otherwise? Geralt, I love you,” he leaned in and kissed Geralt gently with a sweet smile before he gave Roach some love himself. “Now. The Overlook Hotel and a certain large bed awaits us and I for one cannot wait to see the look on your face at the twist at the end! Still can’t believe you’ve never seen it. I mean, what sort of person has never seen The Shining? Or, or Carrie? It? Children of the Corn? And what about Pet Sematary?? Classics and you haven’t seen a single one. Honestly.”

Smiling at him, Geralt rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around Jaskier’s waist, pulled him close, and gave him a sweet kiss. 

“Whatever you say, darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first off. Im so sorry it took me a MONTH TO GET THIS OUT WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME OH MY GOD  
> Since I got that position, things have been so much busier than I expected so I'm real sorry. Too eager to upload, this chapter is raw and will likely be edited at a later date, but you all deserve more so here you go!
> 
> Second...
> 
> CHAPTER COUNT IS UPDATED AGAIN CUZ IM A SLUT FOR (insert spoiler here for upcoming chapter) MORE CONTENT -- I've expanded on a couple things in future chapters and decided it was for the best to update to a higher count, so instead of being thisclose to finishing im now like... this --------------------- close :P
> 
> I hope you all enjoy and I severely hope it doesnt take me another month to post again! SO sorry again, thanks for sticking around!
> 
> Come chat with me! im on discord MysAlyss#5342 twitter @mysalyssart tumblr @mysalyss


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note : probably best to have 40s style jazz/swing playing while reading this chapter, or hell, throw on a few swingdance compilations too, cuz I'm bad at writing dance scenes

Jaskier’s master plan the previous night had worked; Geralt hadn’t been even bothered by the ‘scary’ movies and thought them absurd, yet Jaskier was spooked all to hell and thus able to latch onto Geralt all night. He’d even weaseled his way into getting to sleep over, convincing Geralt that it would save on gas because really, what sense did it make to drive aaaaaaall the way across town to drop Jaskier off at night, then aaaaaall the way back home, then aaaaaall the way back to pick Jaskier up then aaaaall the way to the park -- really, it would be financially prudent to just stay right here, he told Geralt. Gleefully, he snuggled up to Geralt and internally celebrated the success of his plan before he fell asleep and slept soundly against his boyfriend. 

The sun had long since been up when Jaskier finally woke, rolling over with bleary eyes and patting his hand over the bed before it finally landed on Geralt’s chest. 

“Finally. I’d half thought you’d been literally scared to death over The Exorcist,” Geralt’s voice rumbled and Jaskier frowned. 

“Oi, I wasn’t  _ that _ afraid,” he argued. 

“Oh really? Then who, pray tell, was the one clinging to the other asking ‘Is it over yet?’ when--”

“I wasn’t  _ clinging _ to you, Geralt, I was merely securely attached with love and affection to ensure… erm…”

“Yes?”

“Erm… Uh, to ensure a sense of wellbeing and reality in the two of us!”

With half lidded eyes, Geralt regarded Jaskier before he rolled his eyes and scoffed through the nose. 

“Alright, fine, I was  _ clinging _ to you for dear life. Happy now?” Dramatically, Jaskier rolled away and sat up. He daintily scrubbed the sand from his eyes and stretched. “What time is it anyway?”

“Mid morning. 10:15, to be exact,” Geralt replied. In his hand was the remote to the tv. He lifted it and pressed a button, turning the TV off - Jaskier hadn’t even noticed it was on. “If we’re to go to the park for you to play before lunch and the date, we probably should start leaving shortly.”

“Ten fif--- Geralt, how dare you let me sleep in so late!” Jaskier was up out of the bed faster than a freshly popped popcorn kernel exploding into a fluff of salty buttery snack food. Last night, he had stripped to his underwear for bedtime so this morning it was just in his boxer briefs that he scrambled around Geralt’s room scooping up his previous day’s pants and work polo. 

“Right, my place is on the way. If we take 7th down to Rockford Ave--”

“Jaskier,”

“-- we can bypass the light at Stratton that takes literal hours to change, shave a few minutes off our time. Then,--”

“Jaskier,”

“-- pop in at my place, change of clothes, maybe a little--oh yeah, maybe a lot-- of deodorant, quick little brush of the hair, and--”

“ _ Jaskier,”  _

“-- of course a shave, can’t believe I’ve let it get this far---”

“ _ Jask-ier,” _

“--pick up the Martin then it’s off to the park before we know it!” 

Standing up with his clothes in a wrinkled lump in his arms, Jaskier finally looked at Geralt who was standing on the other side of the room, giving him an amused expression with his arms folded. 

“What?”

Geralt quirked his brow. Then, he thumbed at the dark grey storage ottoman sitting underneath the window. Sitting there was a neat sleek black suitcase and propped up against it was Jaskier’s guitar case. Surprise crossed Jaskier’s face. 

“But-- How--”

“I went to your place last night while you slept,” Geralt explained. “You were pretty far under but truthfully I knew you’d be one to sleep in.”  
“I-How dare-- You just left-- How did you--- Well. Fair enough, I guess,” Jaskier gaped, put his hand on his chest, but then shook his head with a shrug before he dropped his clothes and moved to unzip the case. Behind him he heard Geralt sigh. Two changes of clothes were very neatly folded and tucked into the case - a day set and a night set. Immediately, he started pulling his day clothes out and looking them over. 

“Geralt, that’s quite thoughtful of you, but really, do you have any idea -- Oh! Oh, you do! Great job! I’d half worried you’d have mismatched my clothes.”

“Jaskier, I’m insulted.”

Turning around, Jaskier saw Geralt standing by the hamper dumping his old clothes in. 

“Is it because I’m a stuffy ‘business man’ that you think I don’t have any sense of fashion?”

“Well, no, that’s not what I meant, it was-- Erm, what I meant was… Of course, I don’t really mean that you are stuffy and boring-- but no, no, I meant--”

“I’m teasing you, Jas,” Geralt chuckled before picking the hamper up, “Get dressed. And hurry up,” he called over his shoulder as he left the room. 

With a half laugh, Jaskier changed into his new clothes and modeled them in Geralt’s bathroom mirror. Delicious, he thought to himself. Absolutely delicious. His striped button up tee shirt with the buttons left open to the middle of his chest, sleeves rolled up to his deltoids, was tucked into his high waisted jeans. The high tops were laced up tightly under the hem of his pants and topping off the look was his neon sunglasses pushed up on his head. Oh, if only Geralt brought his jewelry and make up. That was okay. No big deal. 

“Geralt! I’m read---” he started calling before slamming into Geralt’s chest face first. Geralt’s rumbling laugh was felt more than heard as he pulled Jaskier’s jacket up his shoulders and then wrapped his arms around him. 

“I’m ready as well.”

Looking up at him, Jaskier smiled. 

“How did I ever get so lucky?” He hummed softly. Shrugging his shoulders, Geralt tipped his head as he spoke. 

“Just ended up on Death’s list at the same time a weak willed Reaper existed.”

“Oh come now, Geralt, you’re not weak willed. If anything, you are insanely strong,” with a suggestive wink, Jaskier squeezed Geralt’s upper arms and rocked onto his toes, kissed Geralt, and then patted his chest before he stepped back and moved to grab the Martin. As soon as it was secured on his back, he offered his elbow to Geralt who shook his head and hooked his own elbow around Jaskier’s. 

A half hour later, they arrived at the park and Geralt helped Jaskier get set up sitting on the seatback of his favorite bench. 

“Alright, Geralt. What should I play first?” Jaskier turned one of the tuning pegs and plucked at the strings. 

“Why not an original?” Geralt was in the middle of folding one leg over the other and smoothing his trench coat out. 

“Eh, I don’t usually start with originals. Mostly start with some covers to draw people in, then I hit a few originals, then a few more covers, and then finish out with… Well, you know.”

Nodding slowly, Geralt smiles, “Yes. I know.”

For the next two and a half hours, Jaskier starts in with his music. He segues from Panic! At The Disco to Lady Gaga to Madonna to originals to Cyndi Lauper to Passion Pit to Abba. Geralt would tap his foot to the beat, and occasionally provide a small rhythm section to Jaskier’s strumming by patting his lap or tapping the bench and clapping his hands. He even helped call in more attention, helping Jaskier talk people out of tips. 

In the middle of one of his original songs, Jaskier felt a tingle at the back of his neck. Oh no. Not here. His heart rate spiked suddenly and he started trying to covertly scan the park. Nothing, so far. Good good. Nothing nothing and---- oh. Oh fuck. There, beside the water fountain a couple hundred yards away. Goddamn it, of all days and times, why now? How did he know to be here at this time? Maybe it was just a coincidence. Maybe Lance had been camping out and just got lucky today. Either way, it didn’t matter. He had to get out of here and he had to get out of here right the fuck now. But how? 

“Jaskier?” Geralt’s voice cuts through his momentary panic, making him realize that he had stopped mid song and was staring wide eyed at Lance. Blinking rapidly, Jaskier looks to Geralt and forces a smile. 

“Er, yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Erm. Think one of these strings is about to break, can you hear that odd twang?” He forcefully plucks a string and Geralt frowns. 

“No…? What’s--”

“No, see, see,” Jaskier readjusted, shifted the guitar out toward Geralt and plucked again, giving him a look that said ‘See?’ but Geralt just shakes his head. Taking that moment, Jaskier looked up and around the park, pretending to just gaze at his surroundings but really searching out Lance. Still by the fountain. Good. 

“No no, see, it just won’t do, Geralt. We must leave immediately and--”

“There’s nothing wrong with the guitar, is there something---” Geralt’s frown deepens and he moves to turn around as if to look at the park but Jaskier grabs him by the hand and pulls him off the bench. 

“You just can’t hear it because you don’t have the fine ear for guitar strings the way I do. No, it’s all wrong and I shan’t continue playing on. Come on, Geralt. I’m feeling peckish anyways and would kill for a big bowl of ph ở right about now. Do you know any good vietnamese places?” he hastened putting his guitar away. It was damn near impossible to mask his panic and while he was sure he was doing a good job, he could see in Geralt’s eyes he wasn’t. 

“Jaskier--”

“Come along, Geralt. Some  ph ở and then that surprise date, wouldn’t want to be late!” he strapped the guitar to his back and turns toward the direction Geralt had been parked. With a glance behind his back, he saw Lance was closer and absolutely staring at the two. The look in his eyes sent ice through Jaskier’s veins. 

A low grumble escaped Geralt as Jaskier hurried him along, but the two moved through the park and were soon at Geralt’s car where Jaskier almost threw his guitar into the back seat. 

“Don’t think you’re getting out of talking about what just happened back there,” Geralt commented as they buckled up in the car. 

“I told you. That string was weak and as a musician, there’s no way I would be caught dead out there with a damaged instrument like that. Especially without the tools to repair it,” Jaskier tried to say nonchalantly but it came out rushed. Breathe, he told himself. Breathe. Lance would be insane to approach now that they’re in the car and--- Good. Geralt was pulling into traffic and away from the park. 

“Bullshit, Jaskier. You know I’ve put spare strings in the case and--”

“And no tools to use to change the strings! Have you ever tried to restring a guitar with your bare fingers?... I hadn’t thought so. Besides, the risk of a string snapping - I don’t want to risk losing an eye,” he interrupted and countered, giving Geralt a moment to reply but he didn’t, so he continued. Silence met his words and he fiddled his hands together. “I don’t want to fight on our big date day and--”

“I don’t either. But you should know, Jaskier. I’m not stupid. We’re going to talk about this eventually.  Ph ở, was it?” Geralt said over the sound of the blinker. 

“Yes please.”

  
  
  
  


With full bellies and light attitudes (the incident at the park apparently forgotten), Geralt drove the two back to Mrs. Allensby’s shop where the old woman was sitting on a stool at the counter flipping through a photo album. Hand in hand, the two approached her. 

“Mrs. Allensby,” Geralt smiled down at her and she gasped, half jumping off the stool. 

“Oh! Geralt, you startled me! You wicked man,” she clutched her chest. A soft laugh left Geralt and he stepped around the corner and took her hand in his, offering a kiss to her knuckles. 

“Please accept my most sincere apologies,” he grins at her. Blush dusts her cheeks and Jaskier can’t help smiling at how cute she was. 

“Of course, dear. Goodness, I’d been so engrossed in my memories, I hadn’t even heard you two come in! But you’re here at just the right time. The suit is done and ready,” she clapped her hand and then turned to Jaskier with a grin. “Come, come. Let’s try it on.”

Taking his hand, she pulled him back to the other room they had been in the previous day. A tall mannequin wore the suit and Jaskier had to admit, it did look rather sleek. And very old fashioned. 

“Uh, can I ask, what era is this suit from?” he approached the mannequin and touched the lapel on the jacket. 

“This suit is actually an original. My mother made it just as the war started and it was never purchased. I’d convinced her to store it and well. It’s finally found a home!” 

Turning to look at her, Jaskier let out a very soft breath that almost was like an incredulous chuckle. Geralt was buying him a suit from the thirties? How amazing!

“Sad it had to wait so many years to do so,” he murmured while he turned his eyes back to inspect the stitching in detail. 

“Sad, but happy as well. It’s about time its got a home, and a handsome one at that. Now hurry! Put it on, dear,” she patted his shoulder before shoving him at the mannequin with surprising strength. 

“O-okay okay!” he laughed. Mrs. Allensby stepped out of the room for a second, giving him time to strip out of his clothes and work the suit on and--

Holy mighty hell on Earth, he looked  _ HOT _ . 

“Woah…” Turning this way and that, Jaskier couldn’t take his eyes off the mirror. It was tailored perfectly, accentuating every one of his best features and hiding any flaw or imperfection (not that he had any because, who is he kidding, he is an Adonis). The blue was the perfect shade to make his eyes seem to glow and his skin appear soft and warm. This little woman took a suit that he didn’t much care for the other day and turned it into an absolute dream.

“Mrs. Allensby…”

“I know dear, I know,” she stepped forward, dusting his sleeves and sides off before giving a couple hems a quick snap. “Stitching is guaranteed to last years, through any of the most strenuous movements you could think to put it through,” she winked.

“Mrs. Allensby, I--”

“Let’s go show off, shall we?” she wrapped her arm around his, her fingers curled with arthritis and digging into the fabrics, and led him into the front of the shop. “Uh-- Geralt, dear!”

With a hand in his pocket, Geralt turned and gazed at her before his eyes turned to Jaskie and widened. 

Geralt’s lips parted and Jaskier could almost see the air escape them. Smirking, Jaskier stepped toward him and gestured at himself. 

“What do you think? Personally, I think it’s absolutely perfect. See how it slims here and look at the color on the---”

“You look so beautiful,” Geralt breathed, taking Jaskier’s hand and moving to spin him around. “Absolutely beautiful.”

Giving a smug look, Jaskier tipped his head back and straightened his lapels with a sharp snap of his hands when he returned to facing Geralt. 

“I know. I make this suit  _ work _ ,” he raised his eyebrows over heavy lidded eyes, his smirk growing. Geralt only rolled his eyes. 

“Such a humble songbird, as always,” turning to Mrs. Allensby, Geralt dipped his head, “Your work is impeccable.”

“I know, dear,” the old woman gave a smirk of her own, pretending to look over her nails. 

“Now. Jaskier, would you please go wait in the car? We’ll be late, I just need to pay Mrs. Allensby and we can be on our way.”

With a nod, and a wink to Mrs. Allensby, Jaskier paced to the back of the store where he gathered his clothes before he exited the building and looked around (was he looking to catch a passersby’s eye? Maybe, maybe not, he wasn’t going to tell). No one was really around so he made a tsk sound and went to the sports car where he carefully slid into the seat. Both hands rested on his lap, feeling the paradoxically stiff yet extremely soft fabric on his knees. A few moments passed and Jaskier sighed. Blew air out between pursed lips and then popped them a few times. He tapped his fingers against his knees and was just about to get back out to find out what was taking so long when the driver’s door opened and Geralt slid in. There was a distant look in his eyes.

“Everything alright?” he asked. Geralt nodded slowly and started the car, staying silent as he pulled into traffic. From what Jaskier’s learned of him, he figured Geralt needed some quiet time, so he just cranked the radio on and tried to find some peppy songs to divert the mood. Both stayed silent the whole way; Jaskier didn’t sing and Geralt didn’t speak. 

Within twenty five minutes, they were pulling up in front of a large building that Jaskier gazed at with wide eyes. An arch above the doorway declared it to be Michael Mattson’s Dance Academy, est 2007. Swallowing, Jaskier turned back to Geralt who put the car into park. 

“Dance Academy? What, are we finally getting you the lessons you so desperately need after your debacle on the DDR machine? Because, honestly, Geralt, you have virtually no rhythm. I mean, it’s bizarre. Everyone has rhythm of sorts. It’s a natural thing! But you, you’re so stiff and awkward and--”

“They’re lessons for you, Jaskier,” Geralt chuckled, cut the engine and grinned at him. Jaw dropping, Jaskier drew in a long low dramatic gasp of air with his hand slapping to his chest. 

“I!---You---! How  _ dare--  _ Geralt, YOU--”

“Come on, Drama Queen,” Geralt laughed heartily. He’d left the car and came around the side to open Jaskier’s door for him. 

“Nope! Nuh-uh. I shan’t be insulted like this,” Jaskier folded his arms. Acting every bit a petulant child, he even went so far as to turn his nose up and away from Geralt. 

“Come on, Jaskier. We’re already late.”

“No, sir. You can go ahead, I’ll wait here and try to repair the damaged ego you’ve---”

“Come on, darling,” Geralt purred just right, the sound tingling down Jaskier’s spine and entirely making him forget his dramatics. Sliding his eyes over, he saw that Geralt was giving him a sweet smile with soft eyes, holding his hand out for Jaskier to take. 

He was weak. 

“Oh, alright. But you’re making it up to me.”

Chuckling, Geralt nodded as Jaskier took his hand. Both men went into the academy together, Geralt holding the door for Jaskier and then leading him to the counter where, in soft tones, he spoke with the receptionist. 

“Studio 3b, Mr. Haute-Bellegarde,” she gestured down the hall to the left. 

“Right. This way, darling,” Geralt gently wrapped an arm around Jaskier’s waist before guiding him down the hall and into a small darkened studio. Gazing around, Jaskier took it in as quickly as possible. One wall was entirely covered by clean and crisp mirrors with a single bar that was belly height running the length of the wall. Four massive speakers were hung from the ceiling and angled inward from each corner of the room. The hardwood floor was slightly scuffed with shoe marks but otherwise was imperfection free. No one else was in the room and Jaskier frowned.

“Geralt, I thought we were taking lessons?”  
Nat King Cole suddenly flooded the room and Jaskier turned, seeing Geralt step away from the stereo and slowly removing his trench to reveal a white button up, a pair of high waisted beige slacks, and suspenders. He pulled a dark grey sport cap out of the pocket trench coat and adjusted it on his head. 

Jaskier’s jaw dropped. 

“Not lessons, exactly. But you’ll be learning today. Come spend some time in my world, Jaskier,” Geralt said softly, putting his hand into one of his pockets, and reached out toward Jaskier. With a furrowed brow, Jaskier laughed softly and stepped forward. 

“So, this is what this is all about? The suit fitting, meeting Mrs. Allensby, the music?”

“A little,” 

“Nostalgic for the forties?” 

“A little…”

“Well, I’ll take it!” 

A light chuckle escaped Geralt as Jaskier put his hand in his. He pulled Jaskier in, wrapping an arm around his waist and lifting his other hand into the air. Then, with all of the smooth rhythm and grace he lacked that night at the arcade, Geralt led Jaskier into a casual dance. His feet moved perfectly, his arms guided Jaskier into the swing style dance expertly. Jaskier blue screened at how good Geralt was. 

“Everything alright?” Geralt hummed, gazing down at Jaskier with a soft closed lipped smile and amused eyes. “You look like you’re off the cob,”

Jaskier blinked and shook his head, laughing incredulously. 

“Hadn’t expected this, really. I mean, I saw you, you couldn’t dance! You had no rhythm and you--”

“With modern dancing, yeah maybe. But not swing. I can swing.”

Almost on cue, a more upbeat jazz song started playing and Geralt upped the tempo of their dancing. His feet moved lightly, holding Jaskier’s hand and rocking the two forward and back and guiding Jaskier into a spin. Jaskier tried his hardest to keep up but he tripped over his own feet a couple times and even stepped on Geralt’s. He tried to apologize and excuse himself, but Geralt wasn’t having it. He just encouraged Jaskier. Both were laughing heartily as Geralt pulled Jaskier back in from the clumsy spin. He held to Jaskier with one hand and waved the other in the air, grinning with bright eyes expectantly at him. When Jaskier didn’t do anything, Geralt pulled him back in and kissed him quickly. 

“Geralt, I--” Jaskier tried to speak but Geralt sent him out again.

“Just have fun with it, baby,” Geralt pulled him in again then spun with Jaskier once, twice, and a third time, each time getting his foot stepped on and each time nearly tripping both up but somehow keeping them both upright. 

“I can’t keep up with---”

“Don’t think about it too hard, you’re thinking about it too hard. You can do it, let go!”

Jaskier shook his head and laughed again and Geralt spun him behind him before sending Jaskier to the right, then made a halo with their locked hands around his head and then Geralts, before sending Jaskier off to the left. 

To Jaskier’s surprise, Geralt pulled him back in and with his hands firmly locked on Jaskier’s hips, he lifted Jaskier into the air and then swung Jaskier to the side into a dip. Hefting Jaskier back into the air, he set him back onto his feet and Jaskier, laughing and panting heavily, stumbled into Geralt’s chest. 

“See? You had it in you and you didn’t even know,” Geralt panted with a breathy chuckle. 

“Didn’t-- know you could-- dance like that,” Jaskier stepped back and dusted his suit down. His cheeks were pink and his heart was fluttering in his chest. Another fast song started playing and Geralt didn’t hesitate to lead Jaskier in another dance. 

He’d taken Jaskier by both hands, swaying them left to right, up into the air to lead Jaskier into a twirl together before he sent Jaskier out and drew him back in. One of his hands went to Jaskier’s hip and he turned him so they danced side by side. 

“Yeah, just like that. Feet--Feet--right and... left-left, good. Back. Wait wait, to the right, there. Yeah, there you got it, good,” Geralt murmured encouragingly as they danced forward and back again. Then, he twirled him. 

“I’m going to throw you,” he warned Jaskier, but it wasn’t enough. Jaskier yelped in surprise as Geralt’s hands gripped him under his arms and suddenly Jaskier was sent around Geralt’s back in a circle before he landed in front of him. Immediately Geralt launched into another round of both arms swaying back and forth and into the air again. And just like the last song, Geralt lifted Jaskier into the air, but this time he swung Jaskier to the left (Jaskier half expected this, swinging his legs to Geralt’s left), then up again, then to the right (he sort of figured this was next, he squeezed his abs and swung his legs in the right direction), then down between Geralt’s legs (this he didn’t expect; he yelped loudly) and into the air again (squealing in surprise) before he was set on his feet and the song ended. 

Both men laughed heavily and Jaskier clapped. 

“That was amazing! You-- You can really-- dance!”

“Eh, when I want to. And have the right partner,” Geralt shrugged, breathing heavily but grinning. His eyes were so bright and Jaskier couldn’t help but absolutely adore the way Geralt looked in that moment. 

“You danced like this often?” trying to catch his breath still, Jaskier asked casually. Or, at least as casually as he could while a stitch in his side stabbed with each breath. Shit, maybe he was more out of shape than he thought. He’d make a mental note to ask Geralt about training in his home gym. 

“Like I said, when I want to, and have the right partner.”

“I meant… Erm…”

“Back then?” 

Jaskier fell silent. 

“I’d learned for Renee,” Geralt confessed, his voice turning low and his eyes suddenly dimming, going distant. There was something clearly bothering Geralt about the idea of Renee and Jaskier was opening his mouth to ask when a slower song came on and Geralt extended his hand. 

“Another?”

“Of course,” Jaskier nodded. His breath had finally come back and he felt ready to dance again, but he was feeling an odd air around them. 

Geralt pulled him close. It was a slower Glen Miller song, one they didn’t need to focus on too much. One that Jaskier felt he could talk during. 

“Geralt?”

“Hmm?”

Jaskier didn’t know how to ask what he wanted to know. 

“What, Jaskier?”

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly, his expression serious as he forced the two to stop, “I mean, don’t get me wrong. This nostalgia trip is definitely quenching my thirst for learning more about you, but something is off. Something’s been off for a couple days now and I can’t help but feel like this is all due to... Your past.”

A muscle worked in Geralt’s jaw and Jaskier could see the gears working in his head. But then Geralt just smiled sweetly and led Jaskier back into the dance. 

“I just would like to dance with you. Can’t we have some fun, forget everything else, and just dance, Jaskier?”

“Well, yes obviously, but I know there’s something bothering you and hadn’t we agreed, no secrets in our relationship, which would mean---”

“Please?” Geralt gave him such a pout with such puppy dog eyes, complete with the lip stuck out, that Jaskier couldn’t bear it any longer. 

“Arrrhh, alright fine, but don’t give me that look!” 

Both laughed and danced on. So much time passed, with them only stopping to catch their breath and drink some water, that Jaskier was shocked as all hell when a knock came at the door. 

“Mr. Haute-Bellegarde, it’s seven and the next class is ready to use the studio,” the small woman peeked her head in and spoke gently to the two. 

“Shit. Seven, already? Where’s the time gone?” Jaskier stepped back from Geralt and dusted the suit off. His stomach rumbled and he smacked his lips. “Dinner time then?”

“Right. Dinner time. How does steak sound to you, darling?” Geralt had moved to the stereo to remove his mp3 player from the auxiliary cord with the briefest of feedback squeal. 

“Steak sounds dope! Let’s do it!”

With the roll of his eyes and a chuckle, Geralt offered an elbow to Jaskier, and they were off. 

  
  
  


The car was pulling up to Geralt’s house and Jaskier was chattering away about how great their server at the steakhouse was when Geralt put it into park, grabbed his face, and was suddenly kissing him passionately. It was entirely unexpected given Geralt’s odd mood this evening but completely welcome. 

Jaskier kissed him back and found they were leaning over the seats. Their lips worked against each other faster and faster, almost frantically. He was only vaguely aware that Geralt had pushed them both to fall over their seats into the back seat. Geralt’s hands were warm as they shoved the fabric of his suit away, working the buttons open and exposing Jaskier. 

“Wait-wait… can’t we---”

“Can’t wait,” Geralt grunted roughly above him, grabbing his shaft and giving it a few hard strokes. “I need you.”

Well, fucking yes sir, no need to tell him twice. Jaskier scrambled to shove his pants to his ankles and rock his hips up to meet Geralt’s hand. He’d hardly gotten a chance to breathe between kisses and it wasn’t long before he was feeling light headed. 

For a moment, the weight lifted off him and Jaskier heard a zipper. Then, Geralt returned to him, pushing his knees apart. 

“Did you bring--”

“Already ahead of you,” Geralt panted softly. A plastic crack was followed by a sudden cold sensation at Jaskier’s entrance making him jerk back and whine. 

“Sorry. S’cold,” he explained breathily. Geralt rumbled out a chuckle in reply before pressing his finger into Jaskier without warning. “Ha--fuck!”

“I plan to,” Geralt’s voice was a low rumble that sent shivers down Jaskier’s spine. Pumping his finger back and forth, Geralt latched onto Jaskier’s lips. His tongue dove into Jaskier’s mouth. There was a vague taste of the wine and chocolate dessert they’d had mingling with the usual sweet and tangy flavor of Geralt, and Jaskier absolutely loved it. 

A second, then third finger joined the party, working together to stretch Jaskier and ready him, but the work was short lived. An impatient growl curled from Geralt and before Jaskier could complain about the hollowness Geralt’s departing fingers left, Geralt filled him completely. 

“Fuck! Geralt, ah fuck.”

“Say less.”

Jaskier managed a breathy laugh as Geralt started in, thrusting firmly again and again. His hands couldn’t seem to decide between gripping the seat and seat back, the door behind him, and Geralt’s hips. They went from one to the next to the next, again and again. 

Already Jaskier’s climax was building. Geralt latched his mouth onto his neck and sucked, biting down firmly and drawing a heavy moan from Jaskier apart from his usual breathy sounds of enjoyment. In response, Jaskier dug his nails into the flesh of Geralt’s rear. 

Taking Jaskier’s shaft into his hand, Geralt started matching his almost frantic rhythm.

“Geralt---- Fuck… I’m--I’m..!!”

Jaskier orgasmed hard into Geralt’s hand. His sticky fluid spurted up, making a mess between the two. 

“My turn,” Geralt almost purred before leaning back and gripping Jaskier’s hips, thrusting in at a slightly different angle. Flying high and light headed, Jaskier only laid there and let Geralt finish inside him with a strangled groan and stuttering thrusts before they stopped all together. 

For a few moments, they just panted softly in the silence of the car. 

“Couldn’t wait… until we got inside… could you? Am I really that… sexy, Geralt? I mean… I knew I was delicious… but---”

“Shut up, Jask,” Geralt laughed. He then helped Jaskier dress again, just enough to get him inside, nothing too secure or neat. Then, he dressed himself. 

As soon as they were out of the car, Jaskier gasped. 

“Oh, shit! There’s jizz all over my shirt, Geralt,”

“Keep your voice down,” Geralt sounded unperturbed as he led the two into the house. “That’s what dry cleaning is for.”

“Can this suit be dry cleaned? Surely Mrs. Allensby would know best. Maybe we can call her up and---”

“Renee… is not an option.”

“And why not? Too embarrassing, I suppose. Makes sense. She  _ was _ your ex, after all, even if she doesn’t realize it, telling your ex to clean your boyfriends cum stains from her mother’s work probably isn’t---”

“Renee is dead,”

Jaskier froze in the foyer and stared after Geralt who, having kicked his shoes off next to the door, padded up the stairs. 

“What?...”

Geralt didn’t answer. He reached the top step and disappeared around the corner, leaving Jaskier in silence. No, that couldn’t be possible. They just saw her today, and Geralt would have said--- His attitude all day. The distance looks. The dancing. The refusal to admit what was wrong. No…

Jaskier made his way up the steps and found Geralt sitting at the edge of his bed, holding what looked to be an extremely old photograph. 

“Geralt…?”

Taking a sharp breath, Geralt looked up at Jaskier with hollow eyes. 

“It seems its time, Jaskier. Come. Sit, and listen, to my story.” 

“Your… story?” Jaskier tilted his head curiously, cautiously making his way to the bed next to Geralt. 

“Yes. My story.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay first and foremost let me apologize for the long break between updates (Being a director is harder work than I anticipated and even though im only like... 2 months in, it feels like im 70 years in), but second let me thank you all so very much for sticking with me. I read each and every comment and grin like a goddamned madman at every single one. Its mindboggling and so amazing to me to have you all. I'm so grateful. I continue to promise you I'm going to finish this bad boy, I only ask you all keep being amazingly patient and stay around. I'd love to chat, if you want to! HMU im on tumblr @mysalyss , twitter @mysalyssart, and discord MysAlyss#5342
> 
> Stay safe and Happy 2021 you beautiful motherfuckers


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG CW:   
> There's some war descriptions aka graphic death/violence/blood/gore ahead so be aware

“You don’t have to go. You can still drop out and-- and stay here with me! We’ll find a job for you and we can--”

“You know I can’t do that. It’s my duty and I’m proud to serve for you. For the country.”

“To hell with the country, Geralt, I--”

“Renee,” Geralt took her hands and brought them up to kiss her knuckles sweetly and she scoffed a soft sigh out, her shoulders dropping. He was smiling softly, almost amusedly, as his head was tipped down with his eyes gazing up at her from under raised brows. 

“But Marines, Geralt?...” 

“What’s wrong with Marines?”

“Really? They’re front line. You’re going to go get yourself killed and what am I to do when all that comes home of you is a damned piece of metal with your name stamped on it and quit laughing! This is serious!”

Rolling his eyes playfully, Geralt kissed her knuckles again. 

“You worry too much. Look at me, Ren---Renee, look at me.”

She looked up into his eyes and he could see the pain in hers and while his heart reflected the pain, he knew he couldn’t let her see it. He had to be strong for her. He had to be confident. 

“I’m going to go over. I’m going to shoot some ~~~~, punch Hitler in the face special for you, then I’ll be back home before you miss a date at the club. Alright?”

A whistle blew and Renee looked around Geralt. She clenched her hands around his and a hard shiver wracked her body as she began to sob. 

“Please, please don’t go. Please. You won’t come home to me, I just know it! I can feel it! Marjorie, down the street, her husband and her two sons! All she got was the folded flags and oh, God, the folded flags! Please, Geralt,  _ Please _ !”

Geralt pulled her in and held her tightly, stroking her hair over and over while he pressed his lips into the crown of her head while she sobbed almost hysterically into his chest. He tried making soothing shushing sounds but he knew there wasn’t anything he could do to soothe her pain and terror. 

The whistle blew again and Geralt glanced over his shoulder. It was time. 

“Look, Renee. I swear to you. I swear, with all I am, with all I have, on my mother’s grave, that I will come back to you,” he said seriously as he gently peeled her from his body. “There’s not a force in this world that will stop me from coming to find you. Understand? Nothing.  _ Nothing _ . Will stop me from coming back to you.”

Hiccupping and sniffling, Renee bowed her head and clapped her hands over her face. 

“Hey. Renee. Come on, darling. Look at me,”

He knew he was out of time, so he scooped his hand under her chin and tilted her head up to gaze at him. 

“I swear to you.”

She hiccuped. 

“You… You better. Or else I swear, Geralt--”

“I swear.”

With a sad smile, Geralt leaned in and kissed her lips chastely before pressing his forehead against hers. They both inhaled deeply, though hers was shuddering with her sobs, and he kissed her once more before turning and hurrying away before she could say another word. 

The train pulled forward and Geralt didn’t look back. He couldn’t.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Geralt sat at the stationary desk and stared at the paper in front of him. It had been a couple days since his orders had rolled out, and he only had the rest of the night to get ready, so he figured he’d write Renee a letter updating her. It wasn’t Germany he was going to. It wasn’t even Europe. No, he was assigned to the pacific front. The Japanese. Not the Germans. He could tell her that - she at least deserved to know he was going west instead of east. Anything further, he couldn’t say, but she needed to know that. 

The pen weighed in his hand and he couldn’t find the words to write next so he just reread what he already had. 

_ Dearest darling Renee,  _

_ Your last letter was such a blessing, thank you for the photo. Every night before bed I look at it and miss you more and more. Its good to know you’ve not forgotten me yet. Tokyo Rose tells us you’d go off with another while we’re away. James, or Harold, from the Club. But she’s wrong. I know you. You’re waiting for me. Don’t worry. The wait won’t be much longer.  _

“Writing your Death Letter, huh? Probably a good idea, given where we’re going. You hear what those ~~~~ do to POWs? Gruesome shit, man. Fuckin’ gruesome shit,” a random Marine strolled up and leaned casually against the desk. Geralt glanced up with jaw muscles working. 

“Excuse me, you’re in my light.” 

“Fuckin’ ‘scuse me, brother,” the marine chuckled and stepped back. Something about the man’s words nagged at Geralt. 

“Death letter?...” Geralt called after him once he got a handful of feet away. 

“Yeah. Pretty much everyone’s got one cuz probably you’re going to die out there. You write a goodbye letter so when they find your corpse, they can pick your letter off you and send it to whoever you left behind back home,” the man shrugged, turning back to Geralt. 

“It’s not a death letter. I’m not going to die, anyway.”

At that, the man started cackling. Doubled over, hands gripping his belly. 

“Oh, fuckin’ brilliant, brother. Man, you’re funny!! Got a good sense of humor on you. Probably I should hang out with you more! Ah, that’s funny.” 

Geralt’s eyes twitched as he turned away, looking back at the letter. They were supposed to arrive at the island soon and would be disembarking into the watercrafts like they’d practiced so many times, heading to take that small insignificant but oh-so-valuable island. It was supposed to be an easy battle; they were bombing it right this moment to weaken the Japanese occupation. 

And yet…

Geralt took a breath. 

His time at the desk was running out as the line was building with other soldiers who wanted their turn to write their own letters, so he took another breath and let it out with a half shuddering huff, and finished the letter. It was only supposed to be an update letter, one professing his love and how badly he missed Renee, and reassuring her of his safety but by the end, as he wrote  _ I’ll see you in the next life, my love. Always yours, Geralt _ , he realized it was indeed his death letter. He said his goodbyes. He expressed his regret and he begged her forgiveness. He swore to her his love and he sealed the letter with a kiss to the ink before folding it with the photo she’d sent him and tucked it in the front pocket of his shirt. 

A shiver went down his spine as he felt the ship slowing down. This was it. 

The water was choppy as the landing craft surged through the water, stuffed full of anxious and excited marines. 

“Look at that, boys, Suribachi is waiting,” one of them gestured with the end of his rifle at the massive black mountain that rose up in the distance. “Just a matter of time. We’re just what the fuckin’ doctor ordered!” At first, they’d been confident. Bombing for days and nights, from sea and the air, they were sure they’d had this in the bag. But the closer they got, the more wrong they realized they’d been. 

In the back of the LCVP, Geralt quietly sat clutching his rifle and staring at the wreckage in the distance. So many other crafts, tanks, and more crashed against the beach. Muzzle flashes and bombs burst in the distance. An explosion rocked the LCVP, nearly throwing them all out of the vehicle while spraying them with water and debris. 

Geralt swallowed hard and looked at the rapidly approaching beach. 

Bodies. That’s the first thing he saw. Strewn about the black volcanic sand. Waves crashed into them, dragging some of them away. A few living soldiers were rushing around the bodies and crashed crafts. He couldn’t tell what they were doing for all the frantic movements and the distracting fire they were trying to dodge. His eyes moved to the flashes coming from the mountain. But how could that be?... This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, he thought nervously. The bombing was supposed to have taken their enemy out and… This was suicide.

The grim reality set in - that marine last night was right. 

This. This was  _ suicide _ . 

His hand came up and clenched his shirt pocket where that letter for Renee was safely tucked away. He never intended her to read it, but he was quickly realizing that the odds of that happening just skyrocketed. The craft rocked and he took a short breath. No, he told himself. This wouldn’t be it. He could survive this, and once they had the island, the war was as good as over. He could--

The LCVP dropped its ramp and the soldiers around him started yelling as they rushed into the cold water toward the sand. Geralt grunted, lifting his gun, as the water hit him. A bullet whizzed by and found a home in the face of the marine next to him, Heart thrumming in his chest, he kept going. No time to stop. No time to help. 

Alright, he thought, he made it this far. His feet sank into the ash of the beach and he trudged up, keeping his head down. He stepped over body after body before he heard someone scream, “GET DOWN,” making him fall to the ground. Men screamed in agony and explosives went off nearby. Ringing rattled his brain as one blew right next to him. The soldier that had been standing there was gone, only a smoldering boot was left. Blood, ashy sand, and debris rained on them. Looking up, Geralt watched in horror as three soldiers were shot nearby. One died, and the other two writhed on the ground screaming for help. 

Another went running by him, sludging up and up and up the sand before an explosion destroyed him. He turned his head and gasped. A tank slowly rolling up the way let out an explosive of its own before the tread was blown off. He could see the marines scrambling to exit the turret before the turret itself exploded. 

Fuck, fuck fuckfuckfuck…

Geralt clapped a hand over his helmet and looked toward the ridges in the distance. How could they ever-- Wait. On the side of the ridges, on the side of the mountain. Concrete bunkers. Pillboxes. So that’s what it was, he thought as muzzle flashes burst rapidly from the many narrow openings. These fuckers were hunkered down in. Virtually untouchable. The Allies would have to destroy the bunkers to get to them, and that would mean getting close, which they can’t do without getting mowed down. Those fuckers had the upper hand and...

It was impossible. They all were going to die.

“HEY!.. YOU! Make yourself useful!” a voice screamed near him. He turned, seeing a soldier dragging another one who was so much younger than Geralt and absolutely drenched with blood. The first soldier jerked his head behind him and Geralt’s eyes landed on a group of men laying together in the sand. “Medic’s this way! Hurry!” 

Nodding, Geralt hooked his gun on his back and crawled forward to grab the shoulders of a man who could only whimper. He dragged the man, following after the first, to a long line of men who lay in the sand near the waters. Another couple ran up and started giving him orders to help get supplies ashore and before he knew it, the sun was setting on the battle. Exhausted, starving but unable to stomach anything, and already burnt out, Geralt found himself in a fox hole with explosions and gunfire still erupting around him. 

Two other marines had hopped in as well and they were hunkered down with their rifles at attention, looking around the land. 

“Can’t fuckin’ believe this!” one shouted as he raised up in the foxhole and fired a few rounds before sinking back down. The man turned and opened his mouth to speak when his head exploded in blood and bone, showering Geralt and the other marine in gore. 

“Fuck!!” The other marine shot up out of the foxhole with his gun and aimed it, but bullets blasted through his torso. Both bodies had collapsed down into the foxhole and Geralt panted heavily. His hazel eyes were huge as he shook, looking at the two men who lay dead at his feet. Pressed against the wall of the foxhole, Geralt felt hot tears falling down his face. 

Rapid footfalls approached and he heard a gun fire, and a body fall. 

Geralt peeked his head out of the hole and saw a Japanese soldier laying there, just a mere three feet away, staring blankly at him. One hand was extended outward, holding a grenade. 

“Fuck… FuckfuckFUCKFU---” Geralt screamed, scrambling backwards over the dead bodies and up the opposite wall of the foxhole the moment he realized the grenade was missing its pin. But it was too late. 

The bomb exploded. 

Geralt landed outside of the foxhole on his back, a few yards away. He coughed and gasped, his ears ringing and his head throbbing violently. Then it hit. The pain. His left pectoral was absolutely  _ burning _ . 

Clapping a hand over it, he felt a hot sticky wet sensation. No… no no no. 

Letting out a ragged growl, he lifted his head and his hand to see a shredded gaping wound with blood heavily spilling from it. It was right where he was keeping that letter to Renee but the letter, along with his skin and muscle, were long gone. His head fell back and he struggled to draw a breath. No no. Not like this. He couldn’t die like this. He promised her. 

“M… M-Medic!!” He screamed out, the force of his ribs tearing at the open wound. Other areas of his body started to sting and burn as well, but none as bad as this one. He groaned and whimpered in pain, smashing his fist against the volcanic ash of the beach. “Mediiiiiic!.... Please…” 

As his head pounded and he continued to bleed out, he started to sob softly. Renee would never get to see him again. Each promise he made her was broken. This was all his fault and he could never apologize for it. 

“Med…. Me...d…”

Geralt felt his consciousness slip away and he begged whatever deity watching this horror spare him. Just him, just this once, he’d do anything, he’d sell his own soul, he’d… he’d…

Geralt exhaled softly and his body deflated. No, please, no not like this. Not like this. He had to get back, he had to go home to Renee. That ring on his dresser, he meant to propose but he didn’t get to. She needs to know. They need to have their lives, their future. A baby and a house and… 

Geralt’s heart stuttered in his chest and he felt it. It wasn’t right. No. Please.

It stuttered again, and then stopped. His head lolled to the side and he let out one last whimper. 

  
  


“Another one,” a voice, distorted, called out in the distance and Geralt heard two sets of feet jogging toward him. “Looks like a grenade got him. And these two, over here. And it looks like the remains of a ~~~~. Nasty lookin’ sight, this one.”

Geralt tried to open his eyes but they wouldn’t move. Maybe he was just that weak. That had to have been it. 

“All gone,” another voice warbled. 

“This one at least still looks good. His body can go back home to his mama. These others…” 

“Yeah, not so luck--”

Rapid gunfire echoed through the air and the two voices cursed. A thud. Then another curse. Then silence. Geralt tried to move again but his body just did not respond. He even tried drawing a breath, but his ribs remained still and… Wait. His heart. It was still as well. What the hell? What the actual hell? What was going on?

Clumsy but deliberate footfalls approached him once again but whoever the footfalls belonged to, they weren’t alone. How badly Geralt wanted to yell and scream, to beg for help, but his body still betrayed him and remained completely still. He heard the people murmuring, their voices growing closer.

“Goddamnit. I told you they were dead.”

“I know, I know, but… I tried to have faith and---”

“There’s no such thing as fuckin’ faith here, Jimbo. Now, come on.”

The first voice paused and Geralt heard a sharp whistle. 

“This way, gents! Got about… two, three, four… five. Six. Six down!”

Shuffling and grunting sounds followed, with the soft scuffing of sand, a rustling of fabric, a light metallic clatter. Then he felt hands on his body. They pulled him across the sand and then let him rest. 

“This one almost half looks alive still,” that second voice commented as hands pulled at his clothes. No, wait, what are you doing? He felt the metal of his dog tags lift off his chest and heard the click of the chain being snapped. Wait! He was still in here, don’t take those! You only take those for the dead! He’s not--

“Yeah, if it weren’t for the big ol’ hole in his chest. Poor fucker,” a third voice chuckled. “Least he gets to go back to his mama mostly intact. Can’t say the same for these other sons of bitches.”

Geralt tried to swallow. Tried to work his jaw or open his eyes. Tried to just twitch his fingers. Anything to show them that no, he was still here. Anything.

“Two. Three. Hup!” 

His body was lifted up into the air and suddenly was cradled in fabric. Whatever it was was carrying him away from where he had been found. Good. Maybe they were taking him to a medic who could figure out why his body is being so goddamned useless.

“Another for the line,” a voice said, the one near his feet. 

“Tags?”

“Right here. Pvt. Haute-Bellegarde, it says.” 

“Alright. Bag number 27634 for him.”

A bag? His tags? No, no no. He was still alive! Hey! Someone, come on, look closer! Geralt screamed in his head but no one could hear him. 

Hands on his body shifted him, and he heard more fabric rustling about. Then, it rustled across his face and the voices faded as they moved away. They left him. No, he was alive! Come  _ on _ !

It could have been hours, it could have been days, but Geralt screamed in his head again and again. Please! Let me out of here! 

Soft footsteps approached. Maybe this was the one. The person to free him. 

A soft sigh, then the fabric rustled away from his face. Then, a very gentle touch on his forehead. His skin burned where they touched him, tingling hotly as they trailed their hand down his temple to his jaw. 

Geralt gasped loudly and sat up, panting heavily. 

“It’s!... It’s… About time! What did you do? I… I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. What’s--” he started, looking around with wild eyes, but he froze when no one was nearby. “Hello?.... Is there someone there?” 

Maybe he imagined it? Or maybe this was all just a bad dream? It had to have been. There wasn’t another explanation that made sense. Pre-battle anxiety. Likely he was still on the ship, and likely they hadn’t landed yet. That’s it. But for now, until he wakes up, he supposes he should just ride the dream out. 

Slowly, he pulled himself to standing, and continued to look around. Around him were rows and rows of long fabric covered lumps - it took him longer than he liked to admit to realize what those lumps were. Soldiers. Dead soldiers. All of them in neat little rows. The fabrics had numbers scrawled along the sides. Hair rose on the back of his neck as he noticed the way they counted down closer and closer to him.

27638.

27637.

27636.

27635.

And then… 

27634.

Geralt swallowed hard as his eyes trailed up the fabric and landed on the body within. No. Not the body. His body. Touching his chest, Geralt looked at the body. This all felt too real to be a dream. Maybe… this wasn’t a dream. Could this be all real?... No... 

Hyperventilating, he stumbled backwards and screamed. Somehow he was there, laying on the ground with a massive hole in his chest and his hazel eyes closed permanently, and somehow he was here, collapsed on the ground trembling and panting and staring in disbelief. 

“No! No no no! Impossible! It’s--”

“It’s impossible, yes, but that’s you,” a voice came from behind him. A lazy eyed soldier approached, hands in his pockets. 

“No. This has to be a nightmare. It can’t be real.”

“Sorry, Dead boy, this is as real as it gets. You’ve kicked the can, bucky.” 

Geralt clutched at his chest where the hole was on the body in front of him. There wasn’t a hole any longer but there was a large scar mottling the skin on his pec. 

“No. No, this isn’t real. This is--” he grunted softly and looked at the scar, “this is… It’s--”

“Yeah, unfortunate that. But unavoidable in war. Sorry, but it’s not like we can catch up to each of you right before you die. You gotta live with that now, and that’s just how it is.” The soldier sauntered up and extended a hand to Geralt. 

“I don’t understand,” Geralt snapped at the soldier. “You’re fucking with me and--” 

“What’s there to understand? You’re dead, kiddo. D-e-a-d. Dead. You got blown up, just like all these other poor bastards here.”

Geralt squeezed his eyes and let out a frustrated snarl as he fisted his hands into his eyes. 

“I’m not dead!”

“Keep telling yourself that. In the meanwhile, in reality-land, we’re going to keep--”

“So, what,” he interrupted, “you here to escort me to hell then?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m dead?”

“Do you want to go to hell?”

“No!...”

“Well, what do you want, kiddo?” The soldier looked so amused. Geralt’s hand drew back to smack him and the soldier put his hands up in a defensive pose, but laughed. 

“This isn’t funny!” Geralt snapped, throwing a punch but the man dodged it.

“No, death usually isn’t. Although occasionally the manner of death can be, loss of life isn’t the most entertaining thing in the world.”

Panting, Geralt turned and stared at the body that was exactly like his. A few heavy breaths passed before it started to sink in and Geralt deflated. His jaw worked and he took a sharp breath.

“Are you… Are you sure…? I’m really… Dead.”

“Really really.”

The two were silent as Geralt closed his eyes and exhaled a distressed sound. Both of his knees were weak and he stumbled a little on the sand before he regained his balance. Fuck, his head hurt. His heart hurt. All of him hurt. Fighting back tears, Geralt turned away from the body laying on the beach--- his body laying on the beach --- and worked his jaw again before he took a breath and accepted the cruel reality before him. When his eyes opened, they were as dead as the corpses around them. 

“Where’s everyone else? If I’m dead, and they’re all dead, where are the soldiers? There should be soldiers all over the place,” Geralt asked, his voice flat. 

“They all went on. Soon as they were pulled from their bodies, they moved on,” the man put his hand on Geralt’s shoulder, gesturing to him to move forward. “Come on. Tides coming in and we should be on our way.”

“If they moved on, why haven’t I?”

“All in good time, kiddo. Now let’s go.”

Almost on cue, the water splashed at their feet. Geralt walked with him a few yards higher onto the beach and then turned for one last glance at his body. He gasped as the waves washed over the bodies in his row. 

“Ah, yeah, that. Damn shame they didn’t think to move you guys up higher,” the soldier next to him sighed but shrugged. 

“It’s… washing away. They’re all washing away! Someone should do something! Before--”

“Before it’s too late, I know. It already is, son. We’ve got over seventy thousand of you dead, they’re gonna lose a few bodies here and there.”

Geralt turned to glare at the man. 

“Save mine. Send it home to Renee and--”

“Ain’t in the cards, kiddo.”

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

Geralt stumbled back down the beach and hurried toward where he thinks he saw his body being pulled into the water by the waves. Which one? He waded into the water and searched it, grabbing body after body, but none was his. 

“No. No no. Come on, no!”

“Told you, kiddo. It was always gonna be too late. That’s one thing you’ll learn, don’t worry. You can’t change fate. Now come on. We got learnin’ to do.”

“No, wait. You owe me an explanation. What is going on?”

The man’s lazy eye drifted as he regarded Geralt with a tired expression, a sad smile, and a heavy sigh. 

“Welcome to Reaperhood, brother.”

  
  
  
  


“After that, it was just me learning the ropes. I met Yen and we became friends and--”

“Geralt?”

“What were the weird… garbly words you skimmed over?”

Letting his head hang a little, Geralt looked to his hands. Jaskier tilted his head slightly, looking to the picture and watching Geralt mull over his answer, before he reached out to touch Geralt’s hand. A few more moments passed and Jaskier nudged to prompt Geralt. He finally exhaled a short burst before giving Jaskier a neutral smile.

“They were vile slang phrases that were a product of their time.”

“What were they, though?”

“Unimportant to our story. And please do not ask again. Anyways. Yen and I, we've been friends ever since. So that makes us--”

“Geralt?” Jaskier interrupted again, pulling his hand away as he readjusted on the bed. Both legs folded under himself and he straightened his back. 

“Hmm?”

“You’re leaving things out.” 

Geralt shrugged his shoulders and let out a wry chuckle. His head shook a little and he drew a leg up under himself much like Jaskier had. Then, he passed Jaskier the photo and folded his arms. 

“You caught me.”

  
  
  
  


“I have to see her again, Yen. I… She can’t---”

“How many times do I have to tell you? You cannot interact with the living. Especially not the living you used to know.”

Geralt paced in the hotel room, drawing his hands through his growing hair. It had been three months since the island, three months since he learned of his new life. He caught sight of his new reflection in the mirror and turned away quickly. Though he still looked enough like himself, he was different enough that he wasn’t recognizable as himself. 

“Look. A stranger shows up on her porch and says ‘Hey, I’m your dead soldier lover boy, come back to haunt you,’ how do you think she’s going to feel? Maybe consider her first.”

“Don’t you think that’s what I’m doing? Considering her?”

“Yeah, that’s really considerate, to put her through that sort of emotional torment and strain just so you can cling on to your old life a little longer. I know if it were me, I’d love to have my entire world rocked to its core like that just for my dead lover to return in the body of a man I don’t know. In fact, I’d loooove to be--”

“I get it, Yen,” Geralt snapped, turning to peer out the window. He heard her stand with a soft sigh followed by her footsteps coming closer. 

“Geralt,” she started, putting her hand on his shoulder, but he turned and tried to shoo her away, but she held firm. “Geralt. Look at me.” 

He flexed his jaw firmly. 

“You aren’t that many anymore. That old life of yours is over and you can’t go back. That’s just how that is. It hurts and it’s difficult, but I can’t express to you how much you can’t change it, no matter how much you try. You’re only going to fuck things up worse than they already are,” her voice was softer, gentler. 

“Then why the fuck am I here?” he half growled as he moved to take her hand off his shoulder, but she tightened her grip. 

“Fate.”

“Don’t give me that fate bullshit again, Harper already said--”

“And Harper is never wrong. Look. You didn’t choose this. I sure as hell didn’t choose this. But whatever higher power chose this for us didn’t give a fuck. We have no choice. This is our life now, and we have to do what we have to do until--”

“Until what?”

There was a pregnant pause where both stared into each other’s oddly colored eyes before Yen took a very slow breath and sighed. 

“Until its finally our time to pass on, too.”

“When is that?”

All Yen did was shrug, pat his cheek, and walk away.

“No that’s not good enough! I deserve more than a ‘just because’ answer and just because you refuse to question our fucked up existence doesn’t mean--”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. After everything we’ve been through! After what you’ve seen, what I’ve been through and what you suffered through, and you think I just follow along like some blind little pup eager to please its master? You know what, fuck you, Geralt. You don’t know the first thing about me.

“You’re not the only one suffering here, Geralt. So quick acting like you are. You’ve only been here three months, so yeah, I suppose I can give you that, but you need to catch up to the program like now because I honestly cannot endure your pity party much longer. I’ve got my own shit to deal with without having to babysit you as well.

“You’re going to have to learn sometime soon, Geralt. This is your life now. And it’s better to just go along with it and try to enjoy this second chance you’ve been given because no one else has been gifted a second chance like this. You’ll find ways to make it through because you have to. Otherwise…” Yen’s hands went up and then flopped down to her sides as she shook her head. 

“Otherwise what, Yen?”

“Nothing, Geralt,” She stepped up and gave him a hug, stroking a hand down the brown hair that was starting to turn white as it grew. “Nothing at all.”

  
  
  
  


“Yen. It’s been twenty years. I never was able to get my closure with our relationship and… Look. I’m considering her. Let her have closure, too. Let me go,” Geralt said as the car idled at the station, Geralt peering into the open window as Yen stared out at him. It hadn’t been the first time he’d tried to hop a train or a plane to find a way to Renee but every time, Yen found him and talked him out of it, much like he expected this time to go. Rolling her bottom lip between her teeth, she stared Geralt down before shaking her head. 

“You’ll need a cover story first… Get in. We’ll work it out on the way there.”

Geralt’s heart felt like it almost stopped. 

“What?”

“Before I change my mind, now.”

Looking at the station, Geralt half thought to just get on the train anyway. What’s to say she wasn’t tricking him? Again? 

He got into the car. 

“So. What do you think you’re going to do when you get there?” she asked after pulling onto the highway. 

“Hmm..”

“That’s what I thought. You were really going to show up on this woman’s doorstep twenty years after your death and not have a single idea what to say or do or anything,” she laughed softly. Geralt could only grumble in response. “Well let's see. You don’t look like you, but you sort of look similar. You’ve not aged since you died. And hm… She definitely has. Probably has a husband and a couple kiddos, and--”

“Yennefer…”

“Right. Well. How do you know her?” 

“She was my best friend and--”

“Nope. You’re a twenty some year old man, she’s likely nearly in her forties. You didn’t know her. Try again.”

Geralt stared Yen down as she drove, her eyes focused straight ahead on the road before them. Her lids were relaxed and she looked at ease. 

“I…. heard of the shop and--”

“How’d you hear of it?”

“Ahhhmm…” 

“That’s what I thought. Nope. Try again.”

The gears turned in Geralt’s head and he grumbled to himself in the seat. He felt, more than saw, her gaze on him. 

“You’re his son,” she said after a few moments, changing lanes and hitting the accelerator to pass a car before she eased them back into the right lane. 

“Excuse me?”

“Got any better ideas?”

“No, but that doesn’t make sense. Why would I--- He… Why would he have a son? No.  _ How _ would he have a son?” 

For a moment, Yen was silent. She shrugged a single shoulder and picked up the can of soda that she’d had tucked between her knees. It was dark out, driving down the highway, with only Yen’s car’s lights to guide the way and Geralt tapped the door panel of the car. 

“A lover maybe?”

“Absolutely not, Yennefer, and I’m entirely insulted that--”

“Hey, hey, if you have any other ideas, shoot. It’s not like that wasn’t common in the war. You think I don’t know what some of those soldiers got up to on leave?”

“I’m not one of them, Yen,” Geralt’s voice was low. 

“I never said you were. But you know...”

“No.”

“Fine. Then you come up with the cover story. Or you can just let your ex suffer through the emotional torment of--”

“Can you just let me think? In silence, please?”

Yen shrugged and almost smirked to herself as she slurped on the soda can and tapped a rhythm on the wheel. It was a long trip, longer than Geralt could stand, and yet in a way it was way too short. He needed more time to think. More time to figure out what the hell they were doing. More time to---

“Here we are!” Yen parked the car in front of the tailor’s shop, looking at the sparkling windows as the midmorning sun shone down on the two. She then looked to Geralt, took his hand, and offered a cautious expression. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“Mmmh,” was all he could muster. Yen patted his thigh with their hands and then cut the engine. 

“Come on. I didn’t drive us halfway across the country for you to puss out on me. Closure, remember?” 

Geralt grunted and exited the car with her. He suddenly felt like his stomach was upside down and that the ground was trembling beneath him when he saw a female figure behind the glass puttering about the store. Had it really been twenty years? So much had changed, and yet so little. Catching sight of his own reflection, seeing himself standing there with white hair and golden eyes, with a jawline that was stronger and a nose that was sharper, eyes that stared more intensely and cheeks that were thinner. He looked both every bit his old self, and nothing at all like he used to. 

Yen cleared her throat beside him. 

Geralt’s feet felt like lead as he forced them to take him into the shop. The old smell of fabrics washed over him followed by a wave of emotion like no other that slammed into him like an M4 Sherman. And there she was. 

Renee hardly looked as if she’d aged. Her hair, warm deep brown like the bark of the oak tree they'd picnicked next to every weekend, with eyes like the richest dark chocolate candy bar from the shop down the street. Her tanned skin marred by only the faintest wrinkles around her eyes and lips. Geralt’s mouth gaped and he couldn’t seem to stop staring. 

“Oh! Can I help you folks? We’re actually having a sale on the most lovely of summer dresses for the missus. Or perhaps you’re looking for a new suit for a special day?” Renee stepped up to the two with the smile that Geralt’s heart had ached for for the last twenty some odd years. His mouth was dry. His body was numb. Talk, damn it! Talk!

“Oh, sorry. My husband’s a little shy. We’re actually looking for the proprietor of the shop. A Ms. Keller?” Yen spoke up after a few awkward moments of silence. 

“That would be me, dear, but I’m afraid I haven’t been ‘Ms. Keller’ in quite a few years. It’s Allensby now.”

Blood felt like it drained from Geralt’s face. Allensby?... Like Christian Allensby, of Allensby Automotive?...

“We didn’t know.”

“That’s alright, dear. What can I help you with?”

Yen nudged Geralt but he still couldn’t find any words. 

“Well… We wanted to meet you. See, we made a very long trip and came to find you because --” Yennefer started but then Geralt interrupted her. 

“I’m Geralt.”

Renee gasped loudly, dropping the cap that was in her hand, and stared at him with shocked eyes while Yen clapped a hand on her face. There was a very awkward silence between the three before Renee, her eyes full of pain and emotion, turned and waved them off saying, “I think it’s time you two left--”

“I meant Geralt was my father. I’m his son. Geralt. The Second. I mean. He’d spoken about you to my mother while they were together and she told me his stories. I… I wanted to see where he was from. Where I was from.”

Behind him, Yen let out an exasperated groan muffled by her hand over her face. Renee just stared Geralt down with increasingly watery eyes. Geralt… Geralt held his breath. After what felt like millennia, Renee let out a soft sound that was halfway between a sob and a laugh before she reached her hand out to caress Geralt’s face. 

“I knew you looked too familiar to be a stranger,” she said slowly as Geralt melted into the touch. His eyelids fluttered closed and his hand even came up to clap over Renee’s hand on his cheek. “You’ve got his eyes. Different color… But I see it.”

“Can we take you to lunch, ma’am?” Yen spoke up behind the two, breaking Geralt’s trance. 

“Of course, of course. We have much to discuss, it seems,” Renee dusted her hands down her dress and grinned at Geralt. 

  
  
  


“I couldn’t stay away after that. I feigned that I was ‘Geralt’s son’ for a couple of decades, and when I couldn’t pass for the son any longer, I took a few years of hiatus. Yen and I took special leave to another country to keep me away long enough before I could return as the Third. Then, after it was too long to remain as the Third, I left before I could return as ‘Geralt the Fourth’ and well. Here I am. Truth be told, I’d had plans to be on hiatus again, to invent Geralt the Fifth, but…”

Jaskier stared at the strange emotion in Geralt’s eyes and realized a half second too late that it was grief. It was grief and pain, boiling over from a loss that was years in the making. Wrapping his arms around Geralt’s shoulders, he tried to pull him in to hold but Geralt pulled away. 

“Was it… you?” Jaskier asked very carefully but Geralt shook his head. He could only imagine the pain Geralt was in to have been Renee's reaper after all this, but Geralt shook his head.

“Harper. But uhm.” Geralt’s voice was rougher than Jaskier heard it in a long time as he worked his way through his words. “I knew of course. Before. I saw her name in the notebook. Yen tried to talk me out of all this but I had to… I had to say goodbye. And it felt only fair that you, as massive a part of my life is that you are now, share in that.”

Now, Geralt let Jaskier pull him in. The two held each other, or well more Jaskier held Geralt than anything, but they held each other in soft silence. Jaskier could almost swear he heard a very soft and faint sob from Geralt but he wasn’t going to say anything. Instead, he just soothed his hand over Geralt’s back again and again. 

Geralt suddenly sat up and swiped rapidly at his face. 

“I think it’s about time I got you home.”

“What? Geralt, no, I-I-I… You can’t be alone, not after something like this. This is--” Jaskier was on his feet in a heartbeat but Geralt grabbed his hand and gave him a soft sad smile. 

“It’s about time to go home, Jaskier.”

“Nope. Absolutely not, Geralt. Nope. I refuse to leave you in a moment like this. You can’t possibly expect--”

“Jaskier.”

Staring him down, Geralt gave him such an intense look that Jaskier felt a chill run down his spine. It wasn’t nearly the type of chill he enjoyed around Geralt. Exhaling softly, Jaskier deflated. 

“Okay, Geralt.” 

Geralt lifted his knuckles to kiss softly before he stood and guided Jaskier to his car where they rode to Jaskier’s apartment in absolute silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta say, this chapter was actually the hardest to write. I struggled so much with Geralt's perspective, and even more so with interactions with him and Yen, and i dont know the first thing about how war and soldiers and battle works other than the chaos ive seen in movies and read about in historical nonfiction, so ima be real witch'yall-- im sorry if this chapter isnt great but heck if im not so glad im done with it and can move back to geraltxjaskier. 
> 
> we're in the midst of campaign right now, so im super busy at work trying to raise money for my non-for-profit organization. And i got hella into crochet. And i lost a lot of stamina for writing. So i wanna apologize for yet another what month between uploads? I'm gonna keep chipping away, we're getting closer to the end bit by bit, and i think i'll be writing faster since the juicy bits im looking forward to are coming up. Thanks for reading and come hang out/chat with me! discord: MysAlyss#5342 tumblr: @mysalyssart twitter: @mysalyssart

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic, though I'm a little nervous with it, let me know what you think!


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